Have Hope
by Crystal Forest
Summary: "My brother used to say 'If you don't believe that things will get better, it always seems like they're worse than they really are.'" When the dead start to rise, hope is all you have left. Hope that you'll see tomorrow, and hope that things will get better. (full summary inside) Rated T for violence.
1. Prologue

**Serena Sanders knew something was coming, so she was prepared when people started coming back from the dead. She leaves the city and goes to the campsite by the quarry where she and her brother used to go. For a few days, everything is quiet. Until one day, a group shows up, looking for someplace safe. Now that she has company, Serena is finding herself in the middle of conflicts, drama, and confused feelings, and making sure those with anger issues don't kill each other. All while trying to stay positive and keep the group positive, even though it seems the world has ended, because she knows that when it seems there is nothing left, you've got to have hope.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything, only my OC.**

**This is my first attempt at fanfiction. If there is anything you think I should work on in my writing, please let me know! Thanks for reading!**

It was a slightly overcast Tuesday afternoon. I was standing at the register of Harry's Sporting Goods.

"What's the less you'll take for it?" I asked, admiring the crossbow I held in my hands.

"Three-fifty," Tom said. "Do you want it?"

That was fifty dollars less than the listed price.

"Let me think about it," I mused.

It was a really amazing crossbow. It was a Horton Scout 125 HD camo print. It was made just right, and was so reasonably priced, how could I pass it up?

I had nearly made up my mind when a bell at the front of the store rang, signaling another customer.

"What kind of crossbows do you have?" asked the guy that had just walked in.

I looked up at him when he spoke. He was good looking in a ruggedly handsome kind of way, his brown hair cut short, a bit of facial hair on his upper lip and chin. He was wearing a red flannel shirt with the sleeves ripped off, worn-out jeans, and hiking boots, and he spoke with a southern accent.

"This young lady right here has the last one that we've got in stock," said Tom.

The guy looked over at me. "You plannin' on buyin' that?" he asked.

"I was thinking about it," I said.

He turned back to Tom. "You gonna get any more of those in stock?"

"Nope, sorry, that was our last shipment of those. We won't receive any more of them," Tom said apologetically.

The guy huffed and looked down at the floor in irritation, then around the shop. "You ain't got any more?"

"Sorry, like I said, this young lady has the last one," Tom replied. "However," he added. "If you want, you can give us your email or phone number and when we get anything you might be interested in, we can let you know."

"No thanks."

"What's your name?" I asked him.

"None of your business," he said irritably.

I ignored this and stuck out my right hand, holding on firmly to the crossbow with my left. "I'm Serena Sanders, but if you want, you can call me Rena."

He glanced down at my hand, and then looked back up at me indifferently. After a moment, I let my hand drop by my side.

"What's the matter? Too good to tell me your name?" I pressed.

He exhaled sharply through his nose. "Daryl," he answered shortly.

"Was that so hard?" I asked with a smirk. "Anyways," I continued, "I'll be willing to make a deal with you."

Daryl raised his eyebrows. "What kind of deal?" he asked.

I looked to Tom. "You said you were willing to take three-fifty for that compound bow over there, right?" I asked, nodding towards a black bow hanging on the wall.

"That's right," Tom said, nodding in confirmation.

I looked back to Daryl. "Depending on how badly you want this crossbow, I'll pay half on it, if you pay half on that compound bow."

"That's kinda stupid, don't you think?" Daryl said.

"How so?" I asked, cocking my head to the side.

"How much is the crossbow?"

"It's three-fifty."

"We're still both payin' three-fifty, either way."

"Well, you kinda have a point there," I admitted, and looked at the crossbow longingly. After a moment of thought, I finally said, "Alright, if you want it, it's yours," and held the crossbow out to him with a sigh.

He looked at it for a moment, then took it.

"Alright then, Tom, I've made up my mind," I said, moving on. "I'll take the compound bow, fifty of your best arrows, and fifty of these broad heads." I pointed at a lethal looking broad head that was shown on display.

"You sure about that?" Tom asked. "The bow has a one hundred and fifty pound drawback, and with the cost of having the arrows cut, plus the broad heads, on top of your other purchases, it's going to be pretty pricey," he said, looking at me in surprise.

"Yep, I'm sure," I said, nodding. "The cost doesn't mean anything to me, and as for the bow's drawback, I can handle it."

"Okay, if you're sure," Tom said.

He gave me my total, and I took out my checkbook from my capri pocket, and wrote out a check.

Tom took it and called over his shoulder, "Devin!"

A guy that looked to be in his late teens ran out of a back room. "Yes, sir?" he asked.

"I need you to take some measurements, and get Rena fifty arrows cut to the right length for her."

"Yes, sir!" said Devin. "Follow me," he said to me.

I followed him into the back room, and he pointed to a chair and told me to have a seat while he got my bow.

When he came back a few moments later, he took the measurements, then told me to go back to the front of the store while I waited for my arrows to be cut.

I made myself comfortable in the padded chair, stretching my legs out and crossing them. It would be at most ten minutes, maybe more since Devin was fairly new to working here.

I used to work in this same shop during my high school years, and I knew that it could be tough sometimes, so he was probably still getting the hang of things.

I sat quietly for a bit, but then I couldn't stand the silence anymore. For the record, I blame the three energy drinks I've downed in the past two and a half hours.

I uncrossed my legs and tapped my foot on the floor, trying to find something to occupy myself with. My eyes landed on Daryl, who was staring out at the street, waiting on Tom to get paperwork together.

"Nice shirt," I said to him.

"What?" he asked.

"Nice shirt," I said again. "The ripped sleeves are kind of cool."

He didn't say anything. He just went back to staring out of the glass doors.

I looked in the direction he was, and panic and anger shot through me.

I jumped up out of my seat and stormed out the door, saying to Tom, "I'll be right back."

"Hey!" I yelled furiously to the guy that was poking and prodding at the motorcycle I had strapped into the back of my old Chevy. "Hands off!"

"What? Is this yours?" the guy asked, stepping away from my truck and gesturing at my bike.

"Yes it is, s please, don't mess with it," I said, stepping towards him.

I had just bought it today, and I didn't plan on it getting dirty any time soon.

He laughed at me and took a few steps in my direction. "Oh, I see, you're one of those biker chicks. I hear they're a lot of fun to hang out with, if you know what I mean." There was a suggestive look in his eyes that made my stomach churn.

"Yeah, I do know what you mean, sicko. Now back off, don't take another step near me, and leave my bike alone," I snapped at him.

He continued walking towards me. "The name's Marco. What do you say you and me take a trip back to my place?"

He was directly in front of me now. He reached out a hand to touch my cheek, but I swatted it away.

"Don't touch me," I snarled.

"Sorry, didn't hear that," he lied, and reached out towards me again.

This time, I didn't swat his hand away. Instead, I jerked my knee forward into his groin sharply. "I said, don't touch me."

He lurched over in pain and looked up at me angrily. "You're gonna regret that!" he said through gritted teeth.

"Will I?" I said, pretending to think for a moment. "Nope, don't think I will." I shrugged carelessly and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him up and throwing him against the building roughly. He was so scrawny it didn't take much energy. "How about you just go away before I'm forced to do anything worse," I suggested.

"What could you do? You're just a stupid..."

He never got to finish his sentence. I punched him in the stomach, hard. He dropped to the ground.

I knelt down and said curtly, "I don't make idle threats, so believe me when I say keep it in your pants, or I cut it off. Got it?"

"Yes," he groaned. Just like the other guys that think they're tough and scary, using their words to intimidate others, but they're really just cowards. Just another stupid, perverse punk, thinking he can get his way around women.

I snorted and stood up.

I walked back inside and sat back down, feeling eyes on me the whole way.

Glancing up and looking around, I saw that Tom and Daryl were staring at me; Tom in shock, Daryl's expression unreadable, a lifted brow the only indication of emotion.

"What?" I asked them. "What are you looking at me like that for?"

Daryl was the first to speak. "All that, over a bike?"

"It was an expensive bike. I didn't want him putting fingerprints all over it."

"Why'd you beat him up though?" asked Tom.

"He was making inappropriate comments, and I didn't appreciate it," I stated simply and shrugged.

"You're crazy," Daryl muttered.

"Mess with me and crazy is an understatement." I smirked.

"Rena, your arrows are ready," said Devin, coming out of the back room and placing my things on the counter, oblivious to what had just transpired.

"Thank you," I said, rising out of the chair and stretching.

I walked over to the register, grabbed my items, and headed for the door. Turning back for a moment, I looked over to Daryl. "It was nice to meet you, Daryl. Take care of that crossbow."

He nodded to me and went over to speak with Devin.

"Have a nice day, Tom," I called, leaving the shop.

"You too, Rena," he called back, just before the door closed.

I went to my truck and pulled my keys out of my pocket, unlocked it, and got in. I put the bag and box on the seat next to me, put the key into the ignition, and started the engine. Pulling back onto the highway, I headed for the grocery store. I had a lot of shopping to do in the next few days.

But, if the rumors were true, all of the money I've put out, from the weapon license, to the large amount of weapons and ammunition I had purchased including the nearly six thousand dollars I had spent to have a pair of custom designed katanas made and delivered, it would pay off.

I just hoped that the rumors weren't true.

**One Week Later**

I awoke to the sounds of total chaos; cars crashing, gunshots, and people screaming.

I jumped out of bed and I ran to the window. What I saw made my stomach churn.

There were cars everywhere, some peeling down the street with tires squealing, crashed into others, some were even crashed into houses. There were people lying dead on the street, battered and bloodied, while others were running around in fear, trying to get to their vehicles. But what they were running from was a horrible sight.

They were people that had blood running down their chins, their clothing torn and bloody, and others that had stopped by the dead bodies, ripping them apart, pulling out their insides, and, it seemed, eating them. They seemed rabid, mindless.

A car suddenly spun out of control, hitting one of the crazed people, if they could still be called people. He was struck dead on, flew through the air, and hit the pavement, bounced, and tumbled ten feet. The car hit an electric pole, the front crumpling like it was made of cheap plastic, and a cloud of steam rose. The driver got out, stumbling slightly, and tried to run.

Tried, because the man that was hit got up from the pavement, arm bent at an odd angle, leg twisted nearly backwards, and came towards the woman at a pace impossible for someone that had just been hit by a car. He grabbed her hair, twisted her around, biting her shoulder, and ripping away a piece of flesh. Blood spurted as she screamed. I could hear it from where I was watching in wide-eyed shock. I wanted to cover my ears, but I was frozen, unable to move.

The woman made an attempt to escape the man's grasp and fell. The man got down on his knees, reached out to her, leaning closer as he did so, as if he was going to kiss her. His mouth went to her throat, and like a lion with a fresh kill, he clamped down with his teeth and violently ripped away more flesh, and chewed. She started convulsing, blood pouring onto the ground. More of those _things _joined the man in feasting on the poor woman. The sight was terrible. Something out of a horror movie. I couldn't watch anymore.

I turned away from the window in disgust, bile rising in my throat, and hurried to my closet. I didn't know what to think of what was going on. Part of me wanted to panic and hide under the bed, but the more sensible part of me knew I couldn't do that. I had to keep my head and focus on getting away from here, to somewhere safe.

I went to the closet, pulled out a pair of jeans and a black and grey striped shirt, quickly dressed, and ran downstairs, thinking over my plan for leaving the house quickly.

I had heard rumors two weeks ago that there was some military/government project going on.

I never listened to rumors, but when the government was involved, I didn't know what to believe. I knew they were capable of a lot of things. Sometimes I get the impression they withhold information from the public, things we should be aware of. I assumed something was going on, that maybe war was about to break out, and they were working on a new weapon. I just never imagined that their project would be something like this.

At the moment, I had no other theory for the cause of what was happening outside.

I sat down on the bench by the door and pulled on my socks and boots.

As an after thought, I went to the kitchen and grabbed a knife in case I was attacked on my way out.

Hurrying out the door, I ran to my truck and got in, started it up, threw it in reverse, and backed up straight to the open door. With all the chaos around me, my actions went unnoticed.

I jumped out and ran back inside the house, straight to the spare bedroom nearest the door that I used for storage, and grabbed three of six large grey duffle bags, and ran to the open door, and threw the bags into the back of my truck.

I went back and got the other remaining three and did the same with them.

Once more, I went back inside my house for the last time to retrieve a medium-sized duffle bag hanging from a hook on the wall, and my twin katanas, then ran outside, got in my truck, and pulled out onto the road.

It took a lot of focus to keep from crashing into someone, or running over people, dead, alive, or insane.

I drove to the small area of woods ten minutes from my house where I had an old, rusted, but still fully functional, U-Haul, hidden away, full of food, bottles of water, and other items I would need, hooked it up as quickly as I could, and peeled back onto the road.

I thought quickly about where I could go. I had to go somewhere where there were none of those psychos. Somewhere secluded. Somewhere I could feel safe.

There was only one place I could think of to go; the campsite where me and my older brother used to go. The quarry, high up in the mountains, far away from the city.

After driving for nearly an hour and a half, my travel slowed by so many accidents happening around me, and avoiding people who ran out in front of me, I finally made it to the quarry. I pulled to the side of the dirt road and stopped, shutting off the engine.

I got out and took a deep breath of the familiar fresh mountain air, assessing.

The campsite was a circular clearing, with small hills here and there, with deep forests surrounding the area, and if you look to the direction of the road, you get a nice view of Atlanta, off in the distance. My favorite part of the campsite lied at the bottom of a short path down the hill.

It was a large lake, perfect for boating, fishing, swimming, and what I needed, a source for drinking water.

I was glad that my brother had shown me how to make a fishing pole out of fishing string and safety pins (both of which I always had with me in my glove box in case of emergencies), and a long, sturdy stick, easily accessed from the woods.

I didn't have a boat. I could make do without one, however, and there was a lot of other things more important to do and to worry about.

Making this campsite livable after over ten years of neglect for starters.

It didn't look too bad, considering, as if other people had been up here, which wasn't an impossibility, since word had gotten around that this was an excellent camping and fishing spot.

It was still a mess though.

"This could take a while," I muttered to myself, looking around at all of the broken tree limbs and twigs and occasional garbage, such as paper, glass bottles, and aluminum cans that lay on the ground. "Might as well get started."

It took some time, but I soon had the campsite looking quite decent.

Looking at my watch I saw that it was nearly noon.

_Time for lunch._

I went to the U-Haul, where I had it backed up into the edge of the woods, tucked away and covered with brush, unlocked it, and opened the door. Looking around, I decided on some canned fruit.

I sat down on a log and opened the can. I didn't have any silverware with me, so I just sipped the juice and poured the fruit into my mouth, thinking about the situation at hand.

I knew I would be staying here for a long time. The amount of chaos in the streets could only be a minimal part of what's going on in the rest of the city, perhaps even the country.

If it was a military super-weapon, what was it? Was it a failed attempt to make a better soldier, inspired by Captain America? If so, how did it affect the public? How did it get like this? Was it a parasite? A disease that spread like a cold? Was it injected through a syringe or needle? Or was it airborne?

Or was this a new kind of flu? Something akin to mad cow disease?

Whatever this is, whatever the cause, it's a problem, and it's bound to get worse. There was no way something like this could be resolved in a timely manner. If this was widespread, it could take a long time to fix. This could take months. However, though they were strange, even scary, I had settled into a calm acceptance of the circumstances.

I wasn't afraid. Staying in the woods for a long period of time didn't worry me in the slightest. I could handle being alone.

Getting water wasn't an issue, and food wasn't going to be a problem for a while, since I had enough to last for at least up to a year, maybe longer, if rationed properly. To make it last even longer, and when I ran out, I could hunt.

I wouldn't go crazy from lack of things to do, because there was plenty of activities. Daily chores, such as maintaining my truck, which would be my shelter, and transportation if I needed to leave for any reason; making sure my weapons remained in working condition; maintaining my camp's security by scouting, ensuring I wouldn't have any surprise guests; and I had brought some books, literary, coloring, and crosswords, notebooks and journals, and a few packs of pens, pencils, and crayons, for relaxing. These were luxury items, not essential for surviving, but I liked to plan ahead. Going insane from boredom wasn't on my agenda.

The only thing that truly concerned me was what lied ahead.

Would things eventually get better and return to normal? Or would there be total, apocalyptic destruction?


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead or any of it's characters or plot. I own only my OC. **

**A/N: Thanks for reading, and if you want, please leave a review! Any constructive criticism is welcome and appreciated! **

Four Days Later

I was sitting in my truck cab with the windows down, writing in my journal, when I heard the rumble of vehicles approaching.

I grabbed my pistol from off of the dashboard and stepped out.

There was an RV, a jeep, a van with Holy Cross Lutheran Church written on the side, and a few other vehicles, all coming in my camp's direction. I raised my hand in welcome as they pulled to the side and stopped.

The RV door opened and a young guy that looked to be Asian stepped out.

I walked towards the RV, a smile spreading across my face. "Hi there," I called.

"Hey," he replied. "Is this camp taken?"

"If you and your group need a safe place to stay, you're more than welcome here," I answered. "I'll be glad to have a bit of company."

"Thanks," he said, returning my smile. "That's exactly what we were looking for."

"Then you've come to the right place. Why don't you invite them over?"

He waved to them, signaling them to come over.

One by one, everyone exited their vehicles, and looking around, I saw that there was quite a number of people. I did a quick head count, ending with a total of thirty-one.

"It's nice to see so many people that are alive. My entire block was wiped out, so I didn't think I would see so many living people in one place for a long time."

"We were lucky to have gotten these people out. A few of them are kids."

"And none of them are hurt?" I asked in concern. "I have a med kit if anyone has any injuries."

"No, they're all fine."

"Good." I sighed in relief. "So, what's your name? I'm Serena."

"Glenn," he said.

"It's nice to meet you Glenn," I replied, shaking his outstretched hand.

"It's nice to meet you, too."

I looked at the people that had gathered around behind Glenn. "What's ya'll's names?" I asked.

Glenn told me the names of several or so people. "Some of them we met recently, so I don't know all of their names," he said apologetically.

"That's okay, we'll get to know each other if you guys decide to stay." I looked to the large group. "I'm Serena. It's nice to meet all of you," I said.

A few of them returned my smile and gave me a short reply of appreciation.

From the corner of my eye, I saw two other guys walking up from behind the RV, making thirty-three.

I gasped and my eyes widened in surprise when I saw the one that was obviously the younger of the two.

"Daryl!" I called, getting his attention.

"Who are you supposed to be?" he asked, brows scrunched together in annoyance.

"Serena Sanders."

"Oh, yeah," Daryl said slowly, remembering. "You're the crazy chick from that gun store that flipped out when some guy was messin' with your bike."

"Yeah," I said, nodding in confirmation.

"Wait, you know him?" Glenn asked, gesturing at Daryl.

"We met about a week or so ago, before people started going crazy," I explained.

"Oh," was all he said before falling silent.

I looked at Glenn curiously.

"Who's she?" the guy beside Daryl asked roughly, jerking his thumb in my direction, distracting me from Glenn.

He was rough looking, with closely cropped hair. His voice was almost hoarse sounding, and was dressed much the same as Daryl, who looked almost the same as he had when I first saw him; ragged jeans, a shirt with the sleeves torn off, and boots.

"She's the one I told you about from Harry's," Daryl said to him.

He didn't look trust worthy, but I reminded myself that you can't judge a book by it's cover. _'I'll keep my eye on him, just in case,_' I decided.

Daryl must have caught me watching the other guy, because he looked to me and said, "This is my brother, Merle."

I nodded at Merle. "Nice to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you, too," Merle said. He was now looking at me in a way I didn't like at all, reminding me of the guy from outside Harry's. Assessing, suggestive.

I ignored him. "Make yourselves at home," I said welcomingly. "The only thing I'll say as far as rules are concerned is this; the dead aren't allowed, and murderers, thieves, and people that don't play well with others are bound until further decisions are made."

"I can respect that," Merle replied, and this time his eyes wandered to my chest.

My first instinct was to kick him in the head, but I didn't want to upset Daryl or the others, especially the kids.

Trying to stay calm, I took a deep breath and turned back to the group. "So, are you guys hungry or thirsty? I have food and water in the U-Haul, and I'm more than happy to share."

"Would you mind if we got some water?" Lori asked. "We've been out since this morning."

"Of course not," I said. "Get all you need, it's open."

"Thank you," Lori replied gratefully.

The sun was just beginning to sink low over the horizon, and the group of new arrivals and I were sitting around the campfire eating dinner. Everyone had relaxed and were talking, and seemed to be having a good time.

"So, Serena, where're you from?" Glenn asked from his place beside me.

I had taken a quick liking to Glenn. He seemed nice, and he was easy to talk to. "Well, I was born in Louisiana, but when I moved in with my brother, we moved out here," I said.

"How long have you lived here?"

"Since I was four."

"Did he make it out?" he asked.

I cleared my throat before speaking. "No. My brother enlisted in the army when I was fifteen, and and he got stationed overseas to an undisclosed location. Something top secret. A few months after he left, I got a letter saying that he was killed in action."

"I'm sorry," Glenn said sympathetically.

"Don't apologize. I'm kinda glad he doesn't have to go through this. I just wish he was here, though." After a moment of hesitation, I added, "When I read the letter, it was like my world crashed down. He was all I had, and his death left me entirely alone." I felt a twinge of pain in my chest at the memory.

The camp had grown quiet.

I looked up to see that everyone was looking at me, most of them with sympathy. Daryl was looking at the water bottle in his hands, his expression unreadable. Merle was watching me indifferently, with a bored expression.

It was uncomfortably quiet for awhile until Merle broke the silence.

"Well, that's no surprise."

Everyone turned to Merle in shock.

"Have some sympathy and understanding, will you?" Andrea said sharply.

"It's true," he insisted. "Look at her. She's obviously soft, so her brother must have been the same way. And we've all lost somebody. Why are we sharing sob stories? It's a waste of time. It's in the past now, so why bring it up?"

"It's better to talk about things than letting it all bottle up," Dale put in.

Ignoring him, Merle looked at me again. "Serena, right?"

"Yes," I answered apprehensively.

"Here's a piece of advice; put all of the past out of your head, forget it entirely, and stop bein' so weak. Grow a backbone."

I cleared my throat. "I'll keep that in mind, thanks," I said, guarded, as I stood up. "I think I'll go to bed now. It was nice to meet all of you, and I'll see you in the morning."

With a quick smile to everyone, I walked back to my truck, got in, and laid down on the seat. It was a bit chilly tonight, so I pulled my fleece blanket out from under it and wrapped it around me tightly.

I know everyone is probably thinking that I'm upset. I am, but it's not because of Merle. I just really missed my brother.

I had never talked about what I had went through or how I felt when I received the letter telling me that he was dead. I always tried to avoid talking about my emotions, especially at that point in my life.

When asked about my brother, I always give the basics, but even after saying so little, every time I was hit with memories, both good and bad.

I needed to be by myself, because with everyone's sympathetic looks, with their own pain reflected in their eyes, being surrounded by so much hidden, bottled up grief, and knowing the children must be suffering the most, it all made me want to cry.

I haven't cried in a long time, but if I did start crying, I didn't want to do it front of anyone.

Lost in memories of a life I would never get back, I soon drifted off to sleep.


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: I hope all of you had a great Christmas and have a wonderful new year! Shout-out to AngelRoze for following! Thanks so much!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead or it's characters. **

The next morning I awoke about an hour before sunrise.

Sitting up, I folded my blanket and put it back under the seat. I got out of my truck and went around to the side, reaching into the back and pulling out my bag of clothes. I chose my camo pants, plain black tank top, and black jacket, and went into the woods and got dressed.

Returning back to camp a few moments later, I decided to walk down to the lake for awhile.

I chose a flat rock to sit on, pulled off my boots and socks, and stuck my feet into the cool water. I sighed in pleasure. Wearing those boots nonstop could really become a pain. I had blisters on both of my feet.

The sun soon started rising over the mountains, shining through the treetops, reflecting on the lake.

"It's quite a sight, isn't it?" I asked, turning to the approaching footsteps.

"How'd you know I was behind you?" Glenn asked.

"I heard you walking."

He sat down on the dirt beside me. "It is beautiful," he said in agreement, motioning to the sunrise.

"My brother used to say 'The dawn of a new day is always a blessing,'" I said, smiling.

"It used to be, now it's just a reminder of how, no matter what, we can never go back to the way things were." He stared ahead blankly, sadness written plain on his face.

I put my hand on his shoulder. "It's still is a blessing," I said. "A new day is something you should always treasure, because someday, the sun won't rise again."

"Is that some kind of hick saying?" he joked.

I laughed. "No, it's simple truth."

I pulled my feet out of the water and stood up, grabbing up my boots and socks.

"Come on, let's go make breakfast," I said, walking back to camp.

Others had begun to stir. I saw Daryl get out of his tent and stretch, Merle following behind him.

"Did Merle upset you last night?" Glenn asked in concern when he noticed me looking at Merle irritably.

I sighed and looked back at Glenn. "No, I just started missing my brother, that's all."

He nodded, biting his lip. "Oh, okay. If Merle ever says anything to upset you, don't pay any attention to him. He does it to everyone, including Daryl."

I gaped at him. "He treats Daryl badly? His own brother?"

"Yeah, but not as bad as everyone else," Glenn replied.

I looked down at the ground as we walked. "Dang, poor Daryl. Merle seems like a tough guy to live with."

"Ha! 'Poor Daryl' alright," he said, shaking his head. "Daryl is nearly as bad."

"What?" I said in surprise. "He doesn't seem _that_ bad."

Glenn looked at me and grinned. "Wait until you've been around him for a few days, then try telling me 'he doesn't seem _that_ bad.'"

Before I could reply, we were interrupted by Dale.

"Good morning, Serena, Glenn," said Dale, nodding and smiling to us.

"Good morning, Dale," we said back.

"So, what do you have planned for breakfast?" Glenn asked as we neared the trailer.

"Whatever we hand out," I said, shrugging.

I opened the trailer door and climbed in, grabbed two boxes filled with canned foods, and stepped back out.

I sat down on the grass, setting the boxes beside me. I brushed off my feet, pulled my socks and boots on, stood up, and heaved the boxes into my arms.

"Do you want help?"

"Sure."

"What can I do?"

"You can take one of these and give each person one can each. Tell them that if they don't like what they got, they can switch with someone if anyone wants to trade."

He nodded and took one of the boxes. He looked down at the cans. "How are we gonna open these?" he asked.

"I'll pass out a can opener when we're finished," I said.

I handed a can of food to each person I found.

After five minutes I looked around. It seemed that everyone each had a can of food.

I heard Merle complaining loudly about getting Cream of Mushroom soup. He was over by the treeline, trying to force Jim into trading with him. Jim good-naturedly handed over his can of soup, and Merle threw his own can onto the ground, right into the ashes of last night's fire. Jim sighed and retrieved it, dusted it off, and found a place to sit.

I shook my head in disgust at Merle's actions.

"You gonna give me somethin' to eat, or am I supposed to find somethin' myself?"

I turned around.

Daryl was standing with his arms crossed over his chest, his brows scrunched together.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't see you," I apologized, handing him a can. "I'll be right back with a can opener."

"Don't need it," Daryl said shortly. He produced a knife from his belt and stabbed it into the top of the can, making a quarter-sized hole, stuck his knife back into his belt, put the can up to his lips, and turned it up, gulping down the soup.

"Clever," I said, watching him with a small smile. "Really clever."

He shrugged nonchalantly and walked away, sipping his soup.

I walked back to the trailer and replaced the box. Then I walked to my truck and opened the passenger side door, opened the glove box, and pulled out the can opener.

"Hey, Glenn!" I called, when I saw him walking back to the trailer with the his box in his hands.

"Yeah?" he said, walking up to me.

"I'll take that," I said, nodding at the box he was holding. "You can pass this around."

"Okay," he said, and took the can opener, while I took the box from him.

"Did you get you something?" I asked.

"No, I figured that I would just eat later," he answered.

I sighed. "You need to eat. Here," I said, taking out a can for him, and one for myself.

"Thanks," he said, taking the can.

"You're welcome," I replied.

I put the box back, closed the door on the trailer, and walked over to the treeline, sat down on a log, and, since I was starving and didn't feel like waiting on the can opener to make it's way over here, I decided to copy Daryl. I pulled out my knife and opened my can of soup. I put my knife back into my boot and sipped at my food.

I looked up, noticing Daryl leaning against a tree several feet away from me.

"Clever, really clever," he said, mocking me and smirking.

I chuckled quietly.

"We've only been here for a day, and Chinaman's already stalking you," said Daryl, jerking his head to the side, in the direction of the middle of camp.

I raised my eyebrows at him, then looked over to where he gestured to.

Glenn was watching us closely. When his eyes met my gaze, and he looked away quickly.

I frowned in confusion and turned back to Daryl. "I'm not really sure what to say to that," I said slowly. "I have noticed that he's been watching me a lot."

"Actually," he said, walking over and sitting down on the log next to me. "I think he was watchin' you just now because he saw me near you."

"Why should he be watching me so closely like that, just because you were near me?" I asked.

He snorted. "Isn't it obvious? Just like everyone else in this group, he thinks I'm a jerk, so he was watchin' to make sure I didn't say anything out of line to you."

I chuckled again. "Well, if you did say something out of line, I would kick your teeth in," I said, shrugging and taking another sip of my soup.

"I'd like to see you try," Daryl said, narrowing his eyes.

"Is that a challenge?" I asked, setting my soup on the ground beside me.

He shrugged. "Take it however you want, but you couldn't even pin me down," he said matter-of-factly.

I gave him an evil grin. "Alright then, but you asked for it."

I leaped at Daryl and knocked him onto the ground, pinning his arms behind him.

He grunted as he struggled to throw me off.

After a few moments he stopped moving, breathing slowly and evenly. Then, all of a sudden, he jerked quickly to the left, knocking me over onto the ground.

I gasped in surprise, but I recovered quickly.

Daryl was just getting to his feet when I jumped onto his back, wrapping my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck, preventing him from throwing me off again.

"Get off!" he said, tugging on my legs, trying to pull me off.

"No!" It had been a long time since I had actually had fun like this. His irritation was amusing.

"What are you laughin' at?" he asked, clearly not amused.

"You!" I exclaimed, and started laughing even harder.

"You're letting yourself get beaten by a girl? That's pathetic!" said Merle, who was watching Daryl's struggling, his arms crossed, leaning against the same tree Daryl had been leaning against earlier.

Immediately, Daryl stopped trying to pull me off, and glared at his brother. "Serena, get off, now," he said firmly.

I unwrapped my legs from around his waist and let go of him, dropping back onto the ground and stepping back.

"You look like a couple of pansies."

"Shut up, Merle!" Daryl growled.

"Or what?" Merle asked.

I stepped up beside Daryl defensively. "Or I'm gonna kick your teeth down your throat, that's what," I spat.

"Stay out of this," Daryl said, shoving me away roughly.

"Well, look at that, you've done got yourself a girlfriend!" Merle laughed.

"I said, shut up, Merle!" Daryl said loudly, taking a step towards Merle.

By this time, everyone in the camp was watching in surprise and concern. I ignored their staring and kept my eyes on Merle, watching his movements.

Merle stopped laughing. Anger flashed across his face, and he lunged toward Daryl, grabbed him by the front of his shirt, and pushed him against a tree. Daryl grunted, kicking and punching at his brother.

"That the best you can do?" Merle taunted.

"Let me go!" Daryl said, trying to push Merle away.

Merle slammed Daryl into the tree again and punched him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. "You don't let anybody, 'specially not a woman, get the better of you."

Daryl punched Merle in the ribs, and Merle retaliated by punching Daryl in the face.

I gasped in horror.

Daryl slid down the tree, doubled over, choking, blood trickling from his nose.

I picked up my half-full soup can and lunged it at Merle's head. It hit him hard, but if he felt any pain, it didn't show. He whipped around and took a step in my direction, but T-Dog and Shane appeared and grabbed him by the arms, pulling him away.

"Daryl, are you alright?" I asked, hurrying over to his side.

"Leave me alone!" Daryl gasped out.

"He'll be fine," Dale said, glancing once at Daryl.

I pursed my lips. "He's bleeding."

"Your concern's wasted," he insisted.

I got up and took a step away, looking down at Daryl, chewing the inside of my cheek.

"I'm fine, now get away from me," Daryl snapped.

His nose and lip was bleeding, and he was still out of breath.

I stepped forward and gently wiped away the blood with my thumb before he had a chance to pull away. "I'm sorry, if I hadn't been acting like a three year old, this wouldn't have happened," I apologized.

"Exactly," Daryl muttered, stumbling to his tent.

I sighed. "I'm an idiot."

Dale put his hand on my shoulder. "What Merle did wasn't your fault, so don't beat yourself up over it. Both of them are hot-headed. This happens all the time," he said. "But," he added, "It _was_ pretty funny watching you put up a fight against Daryl. You're pretty tough."

I gave him a small smile. "Thanks. My brother trained me to defend myself. In came in handy a few times." My smile faded. As an after thought, I said, "I hope Daryl's okay. Merle hit him pretty dang hard."

Dale looked at me steadily. "Don't waste your time trying to help Daryl. It'll only backfire on you."

"What makes you say that?"

"The Dixon's have terrible tempers. It's best to avoid them."

_If they have such terrible tempers, then why are they a part of the group? _I just nodded silently.

We walked back to the middle of camp, and immediately, they started asking questions.

What happened? Was I okay? What did Daryl do to tick off Merle so bad?

Well, it's obvious what happened. Of course I'm fine, I'm not the one with blood streaming down my face. And it was my fault what happened.

That's what was going through my mind, but I didn't say it. Instead, I answered their questions and explained everything that happened briefly, trying to forget about the whole ordeal.

Daryl wasn't far from my mind, though. I was worried that he was hurt worse than he was letting on, and I was also afraid that he was angry with me for causing him to get hurt.

_Wait, why should I care?_ I thought to myself. _I haven't even known him for twenty-four hours. He's still a stranger to me._

I sighed.

I decided to go hunting. It always helped to clear my head, and besides, we needed protein. We couldn't live off of canned fruits, vegetables, and soups forever.

Getting all of my weapons from my truck, I laid them out on the ground, inspecting them.

Satisfied that everything was in working order, I strapped a pistol holster to my thigh and stuck my pistol into it, threw my quiver of arrows across my back, and my bowie knife at my side. Just as a precaution, I took a katana as well.

I picked up my bow, got a bottle of water from the trailer, and told Dale, Shane and Glenn where I was going and that I would be gone for a couple of hours. Then I ventured off into the woods, walking one of the more familiar game trails.


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead or it's characters.**

It was late afternoon when I returned from hunting.

I had gotten around eight squirrels, and had been lucky enough to take down a goose that had been flying overhead.

Stepping into the circular campsite, I set the squirrels and the goose on a patch of grass, just at the edge of the woods. I walked down to the lake and retrieved the bucket that was used for extinguishing camp fires and filled it with water. I went back up the hill, back to where I had left everything, and set down the bucket.

After I took all of my weapons off and set them down gently nearby, I slipped my knife out of my boot and got down on my knees, grabbed a squirrel, and began the process of cleaning it.

Instead of the peaceful, quietness of nature, I heard the chatter of voices as people talked amongst each other, and laughter from the childen, who were playing a card game nearby.

I wasn't annoyed at all of the commotion. It made me smile.

I placed the skinned, gutted, squirrel into the bucket, and reached for another from the pile.

Suddenly, I heard foot steps coming from the darkening forest.

I dropped the half-skinned squirrel and jumped to my feet scooping up and unsheathing my sword as I did so, listening intently, looking through the trees.

"Put that thing away, before you put someone's eye out," said Daryl's voice, as he slowly became visible around a tree.

I sighed in relief and sheathed my sword. "You scared the crap outta me," I said, sitting back down, and continuing to clean the squirrel. "For a moment there, I thought you might have been a walker."

Walkers, we had decided to call them. They were dead people, the infection bringing them back. They were the walking dead, so what better to call them than walkers?

Wordlessly, Daryl sat down across from me, picked up one of the squirrels, took out his knife and started cleaning it.

"How far out did you go?" I asked. I hadn't seen or heard anything that didn't turn out to be an animal of some kind.

He cleared his throat, but didn't say anything.

I shrugged internally and focused on what I was doing.

"Not far," Daryl said finally. "I just needed to get away from all of the starin'."

"I can understand that," I said. "I felt like I was going to start punching something if I didn't leave for a bit."

He dropped the cleaned animal into the bucket, picked up another, and paused.

I noticed the uncomfortable expression on his face and sighed irritably. "Look, if you're angry with me, just say it. I feel terrible for causing a fight between you and your brother, and I'm sorry you got hurt. So I wouldn't blame you in the slightest if you wanted to yell at me, telling me how much of a trouble making, worthless, good-for-nothing, piece of garbage I am. Go right ahead." There were tears threatening to spill over when I finished talking as I remembered how my aunt and uncle reminded me of that every day. I cleared my throat and attempted to regain my composure.

"Serena, what in the _heck _would make you think I would say somethin' like that?" Daryl asked in disbelief.

I could feel his eyes on me. I just shrugged, keeping my head down, and stayed silent.

"I ain't angry with you, but you _were_ bein' pretty dang stupid, jumpin' at Merle like that. It doesn't matter who you are, more often than not, he'll beat the crap out of you," he said.

I looked up at him from under my lashes.

"Just stay out of his way the best you can," Daryl continued. "Don't give him any reasons to pick a fight with you."

"But what if he hits you again?" It just slipped out. I hadn't meant to say it. Like Dale had said, my concern would just backfire on me. They knew him better than I, so he was probably right. I decided to go on anyway. I raised my head and looked him in the eye. "I can't just stand around and do nothing."

"Yeah, you can, cause that's normal. We get into arguments all the time. What you did earlier could have caused you to get hurt."

"I don't care if it's normal or not, and that wasn't just an argument! That's terrible of him to treat you, his own brother, like a punching bag!" I exclaimed, keeping my voice low.

Daryl shook his head and went back to cleaning the squirrel.

I could have sworn I saw a glimmer of amusement in his eyes when he looked back up for a second to drop the squirrel in the bucket.

"You know," I said after a moment, "You don't have to help me with these."

He shrugged. "There ain't nothin' else to do around here."

I looked around at everyone talking and relaxing, the day's chores already finished. I chuckled. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

With no more to say, we finished working in silence. We soon had all of the squirrels and the goose cleaned, and went down to the lake to clean our hands and knives.

"You need anything else done?" Daryl asked.

"You're offering to help with chores?"

He shrugged and waited for an answer.

"Well, everything needs to be cooked," I said, standing up, patting my hands against my thighs to dry them on my pants. "But please, just leave that to me."

"No need to tell me twice," he said. "I don't want to get between you and cooking."

"Is that an attempt at a joke?" I grinned.

He just shrugged and smirked.

I shook my head, laughing, and looked across the lake, falling silent in awe at the glow of the setting sun on the water. "With the world gone to crap, it's nice to see beauty like this still exists," I said, mesmerized.

"Serena?"

"Yeah?" I said, turning to Daryl.

He had his arms crossed, brows scrunched together.

_Here comes the backfiring, _I thought, mentally preparing myself for the verbal onslaught, determined not to respond to whatever he threw at me.

"Thank you," he said seriously.

Stunned, I asked, "For what?" cocking my head to the side.

"For earlier," Daryl said.

I realized he was talking about the incident with Merle this morning. "You're welcome."

_Wow,_ I thought. _What happened to my concern backfiring on me? Aren't the Dixons supposed to have serious attitude problems?_

"Serena!" a child's voice called suddenly.

I looked to the top of the hill and saw Carl, waving wildly. "Yeah?" I called back.

"When's dinner?"

"I'm getting ready to get it started," I said.

"Good, I'm starved!" He turned and disappeared over the ridge.

I began walking back up the hill, and, turning back to Daryl, I said while I walked, "It was nice talking with you Daryl, and thanks for the help with the squirrels and goose."

He nodded once and turned back to the lake, arms still folded. He created a stiff profile against the orange glow. The artistic side of me thought it would make a nice portrait.

Glenn jogged up when he saw me as I neared the fire pit.

"Hey, Serena!" he called. "Need some help with dinner?"

"Hey, Glenn," I greeted. "If you want, you can get a fire going while I go cut up the meat," I said.

"Okay, sure. I'll go get some fire wood."

He jogged over to the pile of chopped wood, while I went to the trailer to retrieve my frying pan.

I decided to just cut everything into strips, including the goose, so it would be easy to divide amongst the group, and there would be a better chance none of it would go to waste, and set to work.

After dinner, we all sit around the fire, feeling full and comfortable.

I was gazing at the stars, when suddenly a thought came into my head. Something I felt I should say. I stood up and cleared my throat.

"Excuse me, but can I have everyone's attention, please?" I called.

Everyone fell silent and looked up at me.

I cleared my throat again and began. "I just wanted to say that I'm very happy to have all of you staying here. It's nice to have plenty of company, and all of you are so kind. Well," I turned to Merle jokingly, "with the one exception, of course."

Some of them laughed quietly. Merle just lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug, uncaring.

I took a deep breath and continued. "I want all of you to feel as safe as possible under the current circumstances. So, I'm going to make this promise; I will do _everything _I can to ensure that no harm comes to any of you. I am fully prepared to lay my life down for all of you, at any given moment. If there's anything you need, please feel free to ask, and I'll do my very best to help you. I'm not looking to be your leader, you can decide that amongst yourselves, but I am here for you. I'll fight to protect you, and if an entire horde of walkers is after us, I will gladly make a distraction, so the rest of you can get away, even if I die a slow, painful death in the process," I finished.

"Serena, you've done so much for us already, and we've only known you for a day. Thank you," Carol said, tears in her eyes.

"Bless you. You truly are a gift in these troubled times," said Morales.

I nodded and sat back down, but everyone was still looking at me. "Um, that was all I had to say," I said awkwardly. Public speaking, even to small groups, was not my strong suit.

Dale chuckled. "You don't have to shoulder everything on your own. I'm here for you if you need anything."

"Me, too," said Lori.

"Me three," Amy added.

I nodded gratefully to them and sat quietly as they became engaged in conversation.

The fire burned down slowly.

Amy and I were talking about music, Shane was keeping the kids entertained with stories, the women were together talking, and everyone else was in groups here and there, wrapped up in their own conversations.

One by one, people drifted away slowly to their tents, Dale to the top of the RV to keep watch.

I got up and stretched, yawning.

"Goodnight, Serena," Amy yawned, going to her's and Andrea's tent.

"Goodnight," I said back.

I headed back to my truck and got in, laying down across the seat, getting comfortable. I closed my eyes, and within minutes was asleep.

My rest didn't last long. I snapped awake to the sound of angry voices.

I sat up and looked out the window as the voices stopped.

I saw the faint glow of the burned out embers of the dying fires, the full moon shining bright over the lake, but I couldn't find the source of the voices.

I was beginning to think it was a dream that had woken me when all of a sudden something slammed into the side of my truck with enough force to make it lurch to the side.

I grabbed my pistol, opened the driver's side door carefully, and stepped out slowly and quietly.

Easing the door shut, I went around the side. A dark shape storming across camp caught my eye. I sat down quickly, making myself as small as possible, as the shape disappeared into the dark forest.

I got up, but stayed low, and walked around the front of my truck slowly, thankful that the moon was bright enough for me to see.

I heard a pained groan, and stepped all the way around my truck, looking on the ground.

A cloud drifted away from the moon, uncovering it fully so it lit up everything around me, and I could make out facial features on the dark shape on the ground in front of me.

I gasped when I saw who it was, becoming angry when I realised what must have happened.

Crouching down, I reached out and touched his arm gently. "Daryl?" I whispered. "Are you okay?"

He jerked his arm away and sat up, grunting in pain.

"I'm fine," he said, trying to stand, and fell back against my truck.

He didn't look fine. In fact, he looked horrible, with blood smeared across his face, dripping from his nose.

I stood up and put my pistol onto the hood, went to the back of my truck and pulled out a bag of clothes. I sifted through it hurriedly and pulled out an old t-shirt. It was raddy and full of holes. I don't know why I even packed it in the first place, but was glad I had something I could use to wipe away the blood.

I went back to Daryl and got down on my knees beside him. "Hold still," I told him.

"I said I'm fine," Daryl muttered, trying to push me away.

"No, just let me help you," I persisted.

"There's no need," he grunted.

"If you don't let me help you," I threatened stubbornly, "I'll break your legs and cut off your arms."

He huffed in annoyance but relented.

I gently wiped the blood from his face and helped him get to his feet.

"Where to?"

"My tent," Daryl said, still out of breath.

I nodded, wrapped my left arm around his waist, pulled his arm over my shoulder, and helped him along back to his tent.

He was stumbling, tripping over his feet. I was starting to wonder just how conscious he was.

Once I got him to his tent, I was relieved to see the flap open. I helped him into his tent and, upon noticing that his nose was bleeding again, wiped it away, being as gentle as I could so I would't hurt him.

"Are you gonna be okay?" I asked.

"Yeah," he grunted.

I reached out and put my hand on his cheek.

I knew Merle must have done this to him, but I didn't know what the cause of it was. I didn't intend to ask either, because in the early part of my life I grew up in an abusive household and was beaten by my own family, and I didn't like to talk about things that happened to me, so I knew he probably preferred not to say.

I watched him drift into sleep.

Leaning over him, I gently kissed his forehead.

I stood up and found a blanket thrown haphazardly in the corner and covered him with it, then I left his tent, quietly zipping the flap closed.

Sighing, I went back to my truck, retrieved my gun from off of the hood, and got back into the cab. I put my pistol back onto the dashboard, laid down, and closed my eyes, heart still pounding.


	5. Chapter 4

**Shout out to new story followers Lovinglifesince1993, mattimax, and HippyElephant. Thank you! :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead, it's characters, or it's plot.**

I woke up to someone shaking me.

I yanked my knife out of my boot and looked to see what had woken me.

It was Daryl.

"What are you doing?" I whispered furiously. "I could have killed you!"

"Put the knife down, put on a jacket, and follow me," Daryl said flatly.

I looked at him questioningly. "Why?"

"Quit your yappin' and come on." He turned around and waited by the edge of the woods.

I sighed, stuck my knife back in my boot, grabbed my jacket and weapons, and stepped out. I put my jacket on, and strapped one of my swords around my waist and a gun in my belt. Shutting the door, I turned to follow Daryl. He was staring at me impatiently, brows raised.

"What's with the sword?" he asked.

"If we run into walkers."

He just shrugged and started walking.

We walked on a small trail for several minutes in silence. I was waiting on him to say something, but he never did.

"I don't suppose you woke me up in the _middle of the night,_ just to take me on a stroll through the woods, with only the romantic light of the full moon to guide us, did you?" I said sarcastically.

I didn't care if I ticked him off, because after the long day yesterday and being violently woken, twice, I was exhausted and irritable and longed to go back to sleep.

Apparently, I did make him angry, because he immediately stopped in his tracks and turned to face me.

I was expecting Daryl to bite back with a sarcastic remark, so his reply was a bit of a shock.

"I needed to talk to you, but I didn't know what to say," he said with forced calm. "I was tryin' to decide where to start, so I wouldn't seem like an ungrateful jerk, but since you wanna be so pushy about it . . ." he trailed off.

I lowered my gaze and looked at my feet, feeling stupid. I said slowly and quietly, "Sometimes being blunt is the best way to get things straightened out. There's never any sense in beating around the bush."

He grunted and plopped down on the mossy forest floor. "So you're the plain-speakin' type, then?"

I sat down and leaned against the tree behind me, directly across from Daryl so I was still facing him, and nodded in reply to his question. "When I need to be."

Daryl took a deep breath, then started speaking. "All you've ever done is help. You help everyone on a daily basis, with clothes, gathering firewood, the usual chores," he said, waving his hand in a circular gesture as he did so. After pausing for a few seconds, he continued. "But you've helped me by defending me from Merle. And you don't need to do that. I don't know why you try to take care of _me_, you should be worrying about yourself. I'm used to dealin' with crap from Merle from time to time. It's no big deal." He shrugged.

I gaped at him. "I helped you because you deserved it! You do so much for this group, and I don't see anyone else standing up for you!" I exclaimed. "I think most of them _do _care about you, but I they're just too afraid to do something about it. But I'm not. I'm gonna stand up to him and do my best to make sure he doesn't hurt you, because that's completely ridiculous that your own brother is being a jerk to you. He's your family, and in these times, family needs to stick together."

I took a few deep breaths to calm myself. I was angry. Angry at Merle, for seemingly treating Daryl like a punching bag to relieve his anger or stress. Angry at Daryl for letting him. Angry at myself, for not being able to protect Carol from Ed's anger when I had discovered that he's been abusing her. Angry with my own parents, for not wanting me, for abusing and mistreating me. Angry at whoever created the virus that made all of the human beings turn into mindless, cannibalistic killing machines. All of my anger that I had shoved down, it all came up like a sudden storm.

Daryl snorted. "Those people don't care about me." He shifted. "You ain't gotta feel obligated to watch over me like some sort of..." he paused, looking for the right words. "Like some sort of guardian angel. I can take care of myself."

I huffed, rolled my eyes and stood, brushing off the dirt on my pants. "I don't feel in any way_ obligated_ to watch over you. I help someone when they're in need of it, as of which, right now, you are. And I know that you're capable of taking care of yourself, that's why you've lasted this long. However, tomorrow I'm still gonna have a serious talk with Merle for what he did earlier tonight."

"It wasn't Merle."

"What?"

"It wasn't Merle," he repeated.

"Who was it then?"

"Ed."

I groaned, kicking a rock in frustration. Great, so now he's not just hitting Carol. That I could have eventually handled with some help from Shane, but if he's getting into fights with other people, he's becoming an even bigger problem_. _

I said so, plopping back down on the ground.

"What do you mean? Who else is he bothering?"

"He seems to have a problem with everyone, and he's acting on his issues against us with violence. Something needs to be done."

"Don't do anything on my behalf. I caused it."

"Doing what?" I asked.

"We argued, he accused me and Merle of things, I punched him, he punched back," Daryl summed up.

"You do realise that puts you on the list of people I have to keep an eye on, right?" I leaned towards him seriously. "Any more fights, and I'll have to restrain you and consult the group on what to do from there."

"They'll vote to send me away," he said simply, and shrugged.

"Don't you care?"

"Nope."

I sighed and ran a hand through my dark brown hair, which had taken on a purplish hue in the filtered moonlight. "That's your own problem, but I'm not putting up with constant fights breaking out. This isn't grade school or a prison yard."

"Whatever," he muttered.

I changed my tone, making it softer. "Is there anything else you wanted to say? Anything to get off of your mind?"

He shook his head. "Go back to sleep. I won't bother you again."

"If you need anything, feel free to bother me."

I stood and began to make my way back to camp. Pausing, I looked back at Daryl, who was watching me go with a blank expression.

"You know," I said. "Sometimes, someone needs a guardian angel. But I think that you also need a friend. Someone to talk to. Dale is a very wise, kind, compassionate, and understanding person. You don't see too many people like that, someone willing to help anyone with anything. Maybe you should try talking to him sometime."

I gave him one last look, giving him a chance to respond, and when he didn't, just looked to the sky at the stars peeking through the treetops, I went back to camp, leaving him sitting on that mossy patch on the ground.

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed the chapter, sorry it was so short. I have some chapters ready to publish that are a lot longer. I'll try to update within this week or next week. Thanks for reading! :)**


	6. Chapter 5

**A/N: Shout out to sugabee14 for following, and to Psycho-Jellybean and eve995 for following and favoriting! Much thanks and appreciation to each and every one of of you! All of you that has followed/favorited my story give me the confidence to keep uploading! :)**

**Dislaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead. **

_Day 19_

_Still no change, except for the end of the fires  
__in the city as of two days ago.  
_

_The camp remains secure. There have been  
__no sightings or traces of walkers._

_The food and water supply remains stable._

_As for conflicts among the group, they have  
__been scarce. Small disputes easily solved, with  
__Merle and Ed being the exceptions, but with help,  
__they aren't a major problem._

_As the days have gone by, it has become apparent  
__that Glenn was right in saying Daryl is nearly as bad  
__as Merle. He is just as hot tempered and unpredictable,  
__giving them more similarities than I first thought. However,  
__these facts aside, Daryl is more easily calmed and  
__reasonable._

_Dale says it's because of me, that I can resolve and put an  
__end to conflict without much effort, that I "seem to carry a sense  
__of calm and reason with me wherever I go," and this is the  
__reason why Daryl is more civil around me.  
__I'm not entirely sure of this, but I will have to count Dale's theory  
__anyway, since I have no theories of my own._

_Chores are divided fairly and are in rotation day to day so that no  
__one becomes bored with their work, with groups of four to six people  
__gathering water, fire wood, washing clothes, and folding clothes._

_A rule has been put into place for maintaining tents; keeping them  
__clean, checking for rips or holes, and repairing them if needed. If anyone  
__loses their shelter, there will be no easy way to replace it._

_The children are still being schooled daily, with weekends off, to  
__retain some normalcy for them, and it seems to help them stay calm._

_I just hope, for everyone's sanity and safety, this is over soon, but at  
__the present time, i'm not going to hold my breath in waiting for that day  
__to come, as the silence and stillness of the city is not calm, but tense,  
__like a lion about to pounce. The silence on the battlefield before the  
__deafening sound of gunfire._

_The calm before the storm._

I closed my journal, chewing thoughtfully on my pencil's eraser.

I knew there really wasn't much use of writing everything down, but I figured if we made it through this, there would be a record of the events. I just wished I had a way to know what was going on in the city to broaden my recordings, but I didn't dare go there, much less send somene else.

Glenn, however, has went after a few things as we needed them, no matter how much I disagreed with the decision. He always said there wasn't any problems, that it was an easy thing to do, but we all agreed that there was no other need for him to go unless we absolutely needed something.

"Hey, Serena," Carl greeted as he passed, drawing me away from my thoughts.

"Hey, Carl, whatcha up to?" I closed my journal, setting down my pencil.

"Not much," he said with a shrug. "What's that?"

"Just a journal," I answered. "I'm keeping a record of things, for future reference."

"Oh." A teasing look crossed his face. "Are you also writing about Glenn?"

My eyebrows shot up. "What in the world would make you think that?"

He grinned. "You like him, don't you?"

"Of course I do. Glenn is a good friend."

"That's not what I meant."

I chuckled. "I know what you meant. " I stood up and stretched. "Glenn is a great guy, but I'm not looking for a relationship right now."

Carl followed me as I went to put my journal back in my truck. "But if you were, would you go out with him?"

I stopped suddenly and turned back to him suspiciously, hands on my hips. "Say, Carl, what's with the questions about Glenn? Did someone put you up to this?"

"No, I was just curious," he said innocently. Too innocently.

"Alright then, nothing wrong with that," I said, nodding, as if I believed his statement.

Carl looked relieved.

"But," I added, deadly serious. "I can tell when someone is innocently curious, and when they're curious for the sake of telling someone what you find out."

His face dropped. "You can?"

"You bet I can."

"How?"

"It's a special skill that takes years to learn, and even longer to master," I said mysteriously.

"Really?"

"Yep," I said, almost laughing when he believed me.

Carl scratched his head in an embarassed way. "Well, in that case, then yeah, I was put up to it. Sorry."

I reached over and ruffled his hair. "No worries. Who wanted to know, anyway?"

"Um," he mumbled, looking at his feet.

"Wait," I interrupted. "I changed my mind. I don't wanna know." I had an idea who it may be, but I didn't want it confirmed. "Just tell whoever they are that if they wanna know something about me, to ask me themselves."

"Okay," Carl nodded.

I tossed my journal into my truck through the open window. "I'm gonna go down to the lake. Wanna come?"

"Sure," he said, adding," I'll meet you there. There's something I have to do first," and raced off to the east side of camp.

At the edge of the lake I pulled off my socks and shoes and put them on the rock beside me. Going to a large stone that stretched over a deeper spot, I prepared to jump.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Shane called out from a short distance away, just before I leapt off.

"Why not?" I asked, straightening.

"Because," he said as he approached. "I jumped from that same spot yesterday. The bottom is covered in sharp rocks."

"Thanks for the warning," I said appreciatively.

Instead of jumping, I walked down to the edge and waded out into the water, shivering slightly until I got used to it.

"So what have you been up to?" I called over my shoulder to him.

"Nothin' much," he responded. "Just been gatherin' some sticks and chopping some wood for the fire tonight."

I watched the ripples as they widened and disappeared across the surface of the lake. "We have plenty, the fire will be fine. It's a nice day; get Lori and Carl and swim for awhile."

"Maybe later," Shane said.

"Ok," I said, waving back, and dove under.

It was clear after the dirt settled. The way the sun filtered down, shining off of the fish's scales as they zipped passed, it seemed like a little piece of paradise down here.

I floated, suspended in cool water, enjoying the serenity until my lungs screamed for air. When I could no longer stand the burning in my chest, I pushed myself up, breaking the surface, and breathed deeply.

I swam back to the shore and sat down on a rock, water droplets making small puddles around me.

"Mom said I can't swim today," came Carl's voice from behind me.

I looked around to his disappointed frown. "Sorry kiddo."

"It's okay," Carl said with a shrug. "You wanna skip rocks?"

"Sure." I stood, wringing the water out from my hair.

"Look at this! I'm gonna make it go all the way to the other side!" Carl exclaimed. He had a large rock nearly the size of a frisbee.

"Go for it," I grinned.

Carl grunted as he threw it with all his might. The rock went about two feet before making a huge splash, not even skipping once.

"Darn," he muttered.

"You know," I said encouragingly, "I bet if it wasn't so heavy, you could have made it go to the other side."

Carl grinned.

I bent and retrieved a rock the size of a tennis ball, but was completely flat. "Try this one."

He threw it, making it skim nearly twenty feet before it lost momentum and sank.

"Great throw!" I cheered.

"Thanks!"

I noticed a figure near the water's edge far away from us. Looking closer, I discovered who it was. "I spy with my little eye," I said, a grin spreading across my face.

"What? Where?" Carl said, looking all around for the cause of my distraction.

"Look over there, in the shade." I pointed.

"Oh, now I see." Carl looked a little worried. "Maybe we should go back?"

"Why? Why not have a little fun?" I retrieved a heavy stone.

"You're gonna get in trouble," Carl said with trepidation.

"What's the worst that could happen?" I hurled the stone at the water, very near to where Merle was sitting, lacing his boots.

It didn't make as much of a splash as I had hoped, but it was enough to get his attention.

Looking at us as he jumped to his feet and began yelling angrily. I couldn't make out his words. I just simply grinned and waved.

"Uh oh." Carl hid behind me, peeking around at Merle as he approached.

"Hey, Merle. Having a nice day?"

Merle ignored my question, getting in my face. "What do you think you're doin'? Are you stupid or somethin'?"

"No." I spoke calmly, in a friendly manner. "I never got a chance to properly thank you for the advice."

"What advice?"

"When you told me to leave the past in the past, forget about it, and grow a backbone."

Taken aback, Merle asked, "Why thank me? That's just common sense. Something you obviously lack."

"You can't upset me with your insults, Merle." I looked at him steadily. "And I'm thanking you because it was good advice, something I took to heart. Moving on from the past is what I should have done a long time ago." I gave him a smile of gratitude.

He blinked, scrunched his brows. "Whatever," he said finally, and walked away without a second glance.

"That went better than I expected," I said in surprise.

Carl walked back around to face me. "What were you expecting?"

I shrugged. "Screaming, swearing, a few threats. But not that."

Carl watched Merle go with a look of wonder. "If someone else splashed him, he would have been really mad."

"It wasn't that. He _was _mad. He just didn't say much because he was surprised."

"Surprised?"

"Yeah. I'm guessing he doesn't get thanked for anything often."

"He doesn't." Carl picked up another rock, sending it out over the water. "But he really doesn't do much, though."

Hearing his stomach rumble suddnely, I picked up my socks and shoes. "Ready for lunch?" I asked.

Carl nodded enthusiastically.

"Let's go find something, then." I grinned.

We raced back up to the camp, and I let Carl get ahead of me as we neared the trailer. He grinned in triumph when he won.

"Here's some pork and beans," I said.

"Thanks."

We sat down next to the fire pit to eat.

"What's hunting like?" Carl asked conversationally. "Is it fun?

"It can be." I plucked a bean out of my can and popped it into my mouth. "It's fun being out there in the woods, surrounded by nature. But it's sad killing an animal. That's my least favorite part."

"Then why do it?"

"For the meat and fur. To sustain yourself and others," I answered carefully. "When you make a kill, knowing that you have a way to feed your family, there is still sadness in it, but also a little joy in knowing that your family won't go hungry. That's part of life. Meat, fruits, and vegetables are a part of what we eat and keeps us healthy. Always have been, and always will be." I poured a bit of beans into my mouth, chewed and swallowed. "Those are my opinions and how I think anyway."

"It makes sense," Carl said, contemplating. "So what you're saying is, sometimes it's necessary to kill in order to survive?"

"Yes, to a certain degree. You should never kill for no reason, and avoid having to do so the best you can."

He digested this for a moment. "Is it wrong to kill the walkers? Since they used to be people?"

I lowered the can, startled. I thought before hard before answering. "Honestly? I think we may be doing them a kindness. The people they once were, I don't think they're there anymore. When they die, their bodies are brought back by whatever the infection is, turning them into mindless creatures."

"So, they're really dead? Who they used to be is really gone?"

"I saw some scary things when this began. There's no way they are alive."

Carl nodded. "Can I ask you something?"

"You can ask me anything."

"What do you miss the most? Before all of this?"

"A lot of things," I said. "Showers, air conditioning, my friend, Tom, who owned the sporting goods store where I had my first job. But everything that really mattered to me before, I have right here."

"Like what?"

"Companionship and friends, people you can count on."

"Do you really like us?"

"Of course I do!" I ruffled his hair. "I love having ya'll around. Each one of you is great in your own unique way."

Carl smiled up at me. "Thanks, we like you, too." He looked down at his feet, then back up. "You know what I miss the most?"

"What?"

His eyes saddened. "My dad."

"What happened to him?" I asked gently.

"He was a police officer. He got shot one day, not long before all of this happened. He went into a coma." He sniffed and cleared his throat. "I like to think that maybe he woke up, and he's out there somewhere trying to find us, but I know that's impossible."

I put my arm around him comfortingly. "I'm so sorry, kiddo. I know how you feel, but just remember, nothing is impossible. He might be out there." I hugged him tightly. "If you ever wanna talk, about anything, I'm right here."

"Thanks, Serena," Carl said, hugging me back.

"You can call me Rena," I said. "That's what my brother used to call me."

"Okay." Carl stood up and gave me a bright smile. "I had a lot of fun."

"Me, too," I replied, smiling back.

"I'm gonna go find Sophia, Louis, and Eliza and see if they want to play Go Fish. Wanna come?"

"Thanks, but I should make sure everything is in order before dark," I answered, rising with a grunt. Sitting on the ground wasn't always very comfortable.

"Okay, see ya later!"

I picked up our empty cans, preparing to take them to the garbage pile, when I was surprised by a voice from behind me.

"Why do you do that?"

"Do what?" I asked, turning around to face him.

"Be so nice to people," Daryl said, coming out of the shadows of the trees. "The kids I can understand, but why Merle? Why me?"

"Because people deserve to be treated fairly, even when they aren't treating others fair. You should treat people like you want to be treated."

He leaned against a tree. "What's with all the philosophy stuff?"

"You asked a question, I answered."

He laughed humourlessly, shaking his head. "You're a tough nut to crack, you know that?"

I chuckled at the expression. "No, I don't, and I don't know what you mean by that, either."

"I mean that I can't figure you out."

"I always try to look for the good in people, regardless of who and how they are," I offered. "I like helping people, doing the most I can for them, and no matter what the circumstances are, I try to stay positive."

"Staying positive seems kinda hard to do, especially now," he said.

"It is," I agreed. I cleared my throat and said, "Now it's my turn to ask you a question."

Daryl raised a brow. "Which is?"

"Why do you always hover in the woods, where you can see us, but we can't see you? It's a little eerie when you come out of nowhere like that."

He shrugged. "Maybe I just like bein' in the woods."

"Alright, that answer's acceptable. But now I get to ask another question."

"That doesn't exactly seem fair, does it?"

"You've asked me a lot of questions." I put the cans back down, deciding to get them in a few minutes when I checked around the camp for stray trash.

"Fine, fire away." He looked at me expectantly.

"Well," I said taking a few steps closer to him. "My most important question, why are you so nice to me?"

"What makes you think I am?" he asked, turning away and walking a little ways into the woods, back in the shade.

I hurriedly followed him, keeping up with his long strides. "I heard that you were a loner, and you and Merle stick together, never really talking to anyone else. And I've noticed you're mostly harsh towards everyone else, too."

"I thought you were asking questions, not tellin' me all the stuff you've heard about me?"

"I'm getting to the point," I huffed.

"Get straight to it then. You're wearin' my patience."

I rolled my eyes. "My point is that you're different around me, and I wanna know why. What makes me so different from them?"

He stopped and sat on a tree root that was protruding from the ground. "You're different."

I leaned back against an old oak, pulling up one knee, and folded my arms. "In what way?"

Daryl breathed a sigh, obviously not wanting to continue, then explained quickly. "You ain't like them. When they look at me, all I see is distrust, sometimes fear, in their eyes. When _you_ look at me, you're friendly. You don't look at me like you think I'm about to steal somethin'. You're easy-goin' and understandin'." He paused, looked at me with furrowed brows. "And for some reason, it's easy for me to talk to you, which ticks me off, 'cause I end up sayin' stuff that I end up regrettin'."

_'So Dale was right, in a way.' _I was speechless. I thought he was going to give me some kind of sarcastic remark. I didn't know he would say all of that.

Irritation and annoyance crossed over his features. "What are ya gawkin' at? Did I answer your question, or not?"

I cleared my throat and forced out a reply. "Yeah." I nodded.

Daryl put his elbows on his knees, his hands hanging limply, and looked at me with his head cocked slightly to the side. "What's your next question?"

I shrugged. My most important question, the one that had been burning at the back of my mind, had been answered. "I don't reckon I have any more."

"In that case, I have one for you."

I bit the inside of my cheek and nodded.

"What happened to your bike?"

What? That was it? After a revealing moment, he wants to know where my bike is? I don't know what kind of question I expected, but it certainly wasn't something as simple as that.

"It got left behind. I didn't have time to get it, with all of the people going crazy so close to me."

"That's a shame," Daryl said. "It was a nice bike."

I nodded in agreement. "Expensive, too. It was stupid to spend so much on a luxury item." I shook my head with regret. "With the money I threw away on it, I could have bought that crossbow from 'Harry's'."

Daryl twisted around suddenly, picking up something from beside the tree and holding it up proudly. "Ya' mean this crossbow?" he asked with a smirk.

My eyes widened. "You still have it!" I exclaimed, stepping forward to take a closer look.

He held it out to me, and I took it gingerly in my hands. It showed obvious signs of use, but had been taken care of. That aside, it was still as magnificent as I remembered.

"I'm glad to see you've treated it kindly," I said. "How is it?"

"Works great." There was a teasing look in his eyes. "Are you regrettin' letting me have it?"

"No, not really," I answered honestly after some hesitation. I handed it back to him with a small smile. "I see you've gotten plenty of use out of it, which is good." I added jokingly, "As long as you take good care of it, I have no reason to steal it from you."

"I had half a mind to take one of those swords from you when I first saw 'em." He slung the crossbow over his back, adjusting the strap as he stood."Where'd you get 'em from?"

"There was a guy I knew that made swords, and I asked him to make them for me, since I've always had a fascination with them."

He nodded, then said bluntly, "So, what's goin' on between you and Chinaman?"

Taken aback, I started walking slowly in the direction of camp. "Nothing, we're just friends."

"He follows you around like a lost puppy." He matched my pace, watching me closely, looking ahead occasionally. "It sure seems like there's somethin' goin' on."

"Well, there ain't, so quit asking," I said, my tone final.

Daryl laughed in disbelief and got ahead of me. I snorted and quickened my pace until I passed him.

He gave me a sharp look and lengthened his stride. I was about to retaliate by going into an all-out sprint, when I saw something move from the corner of my eye.

"Daryl, stop!" I said, grabbing his arm and pulling him back.

"Hey!" he complained.

"Be quiet!" I commanded.

Catching on, he stilled and lowered his voice to a whisper. "What is it?"

I gestured with a jerk of my chin.

Some twelve yards away, there was a young doe. She walked slowly, stumbling, head hanging low.

"Something isn't right with her," I said quietly. "She obviously knows we're here from the racket we were making, but she hasn't made a move to run."

Daryl lowered the crossbow from his shoulder, cocked it, and loaded a bolt. "Well, if she ain't made a move to run, I'm gonna make a move to take her out." He raised the weapon, took careful aim, and squeezed the trigger.

The bolt hit it's mark and she fell to the ground.

"Hope you're in the mood for venison." He grinned proudly and went to inspect the fallen doe.

We arrived by it's side, and I stooped to retrieve the arrow, while Daryl pulled out his knife and walked around to it's stomach, preparing to clean it.

As I yanked out the arrow, Daryl cursed harshly in alarm.

"What?" I asked.

"Take a look at this." He pointed with his knife, a look of disgust on his face.

When I saw what caused his revulsion, I wanted to vomit.

"What on earth happened?" I said, covering my mouth with a hand.

"Don't ask me. I ain't never seen nothin' like this before."

I've seen a deer that had been wounded by an arrow through it's neck and died from infection, and a bobcat had begun to scavenge the carcass, but I have never seen anything like _this_ before.

The deer's stomach had been brutally ripped open, blood dripping, innards visible, scratches covering some areas.

"What could have done this?" I asked, swallowing bile. I could handle gore, but this was terrible.

"I don't know, but I just hope it's not what I think it is."

He didn't have to say what he was thinking. I was thinking the same.

Walkers.

If they are what did this, then that meant they were beginning to wander in search of food.

"We have to move it, get it away from camp," I told him. "We don't need scavengers finding it and wandering down there."

He looked at the deer a moment. "You're right. You don't think we could just cut around it?"

"I wouldn't chance it."

He took in a deep breath and handed me the crossbow. "Hold this and keep your eyes and ears open. I'm gonna drag it as far as possible."

"Okay," I said, slinging the weapon strap over my shoulder, settling it comfortably across my back.

Daryl picked up the hind legs of the deer and began dragging it towards the thicker part of the woods. Wishing I had brought my swords, or at least one of them, instead of just a hunting knife I had in my boot, I followed him.


	7. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead.**

It was now late afternoon. It was also very humid.

We had dragged the deer carcass nearly three miles away from the camp, just to be safe, in case anything was following the deer before Daryl killed it.

Sweat beaded my forehead, and my shirt was clinging uncomfortably. I wiped my brow with the back of my hand. "I would love to have some water right now," I muttered. "I'm parched."

"Then get some," Daryl said gruffly.

"I don't have any."

"Why don't you?"

I avoided tripping over a tree branch and said with a huff, "I didn't bring any."

"Why not?"

As I rolled my eyes a large stone I didn't see sticking out of the ground caused me to stumble. I fell forward, using the first thing I came into contact with to steady myself.

Daryl's hand shot out, grabbing my arm just below my elbow, and pulled me upright.

Looking up, I realized that what I had used to catch myself before I hit the ground face-first was the side of Daryl's shirt. I also realized we were merely inches from each other.

Daryl took in a sharp breath and released me, almost flinging my arm away.

I mumbled my thanks and started walking again, now glad for the heat that had caused my face to flush from exertion, because I was quite sure that I was blushing.

As we walked into camp people came forward with curiosity. I ignored all of them and went straight to the bucket in the shade by the fire pit to get a bottle of water.

Everyone talking at once, I took my time drinking the cool liquid. As they talked, I looked to Daryl, silently asking how much I should say.

He shrugged and indicated I toss him a bottle. He caught it easily. "Everybody, shut your faces!" he yelled, after taking a drink.

Everyone, including myself, looked at him in shock at his rudeness.

"There was an issue. We took care of it," Daryl said shortly.

"What kind of issue?" Shane asked.

"There was a deer," I began. "It didn't look so great, we suspected it of being diseased, so we dragged it away from camp, to keep the smell from attracting other animals," I explained the best I could without saying anything to cause worry. I would inform Dale, Shane, T-Dog, and a few others in more detail later.

"Why not burn it?" Ed said.

"If we burned it, the smoke would attract unwelcome guests," Dale answered.

Shane stepped forward, coming up to me closely, his voice low. "Is this something we should worry about?"

"I don't think so. It wouldn't hurt to keep a close eye on things, though."

He nodded. "Fill me in on the details later."

"I will."

The group dispersed, going back to what they were doing. Daryl glanced at Glenn, who was looking at me, gave me a smirk and a little nod of farewell, and went to his tent.

Glenn watched until he was gone. "Where did you go?"

"Just for a walk." I sat down in the chair by the fire pit, my legs tingling.

"With Daryl?" He sat down in the chair nearest me.

I shrugged. "Yeah, we were talking."

Glenn nodded, looking strange.

I leaned towards him seriously. "Is there something you would like to tell me?"

His head snapped up. "Like what?"

"Why do you always act so strange when it comes to Daryl? Why do you act like you're hiding something, getting quiet?" Another example of his strange behavior came to me. "And why, on the day we met, did you act like you had a problem with the fact me and Daryl knew each other already?"

He took off his hat, his black hair sticking up in places, turning the hat around in his hands nervously. "Daryl and Merle don't have the best reputations, but you know that already. I thought maybe since you knew him, you might be like them somehow. After that, as I got to know you, and realized you weren't, I started thinking you might like him, since you were always saying positive things about them."

My eyes widened, suddenly understanding. "You're jealous of him."

He looked me in the eye. "I used to be. But now, I don't know."

"Are you the one that sent Carl to see if I liked you as more than a friend?"

He nodded.

I put my head in my hands, my chest and throat constricting with emotion. "Glenn." I lifted my head. "Why didn't you ask me yourself?"

"I was nervous."

I ran my hand through my hair.

"You don't... like me back?"

I bit my lip. "I..."

Glenn interrupted me. "I can tell you don't."

"Glenn..."

"It's okay. I understand."

"No, listen." I swallowed thickly. "You're a fantastic friend. And don't get me wrong, you're a very handsome man. I'm just not looking for a relationship right now." It was much the same as what I had said to Carl when he asked me about my feelings concerning Glenn this afternoon, but it was true. "Even if I did like you as more than a friend, I wouldn't be right for you."

He looked at me questioningly.

"There are some things in my past that I haven't been able to get over yet, causing me to have emotional and self-esteem issues."

He nodded in understanding. "If you ever want to talk, I'm here."

"Thanks, maybe one day I'll take you up on that."

"This won't ruin our friendship, will it?" Glenn asked worriedly.

"Absolutely not. Just don't wait on me, okay?"

He didn't look happy about it, but he nodded in assent.

"Well, now that we got this out in the open and worked it out," I stood slowly, grimacing as my sore legs screamed in protest. "I'm going to go get things together for dinner."

Glenn replaced his hat. "Do you want some help?"

"Sure."

When I opened the door on the trailer, Glenn asked, "Is that all the food we have left?"

"Unfortunately," I said grimly.

At estimation, there was only enough to last for another two, maybe three months.

"How did we run out so fast?"

I stepped inside, getting a box filled with cans of green beans with ham chunks. "With so many mouths to feed, it takes more to fill their stomachs. I didn't account for a lot of company when I packed."

Glenn took the box from my hands when I jumped out. "Will we be okay?"

I nodded. "With hunting, we should be able to have a few nights worth of dinners spared from the supply."

"Will we need to make a trip to the city soon?"

I bit the inside of my cheek, unsure. "If we ration carefully, and if we don't get raided by anyone or another group, we should be okay for a little while. I want to prolong a trip into the city for as long as possible."

As luck would have it, three days later, in the middle of the night, around five or six people raided our camp.

No one was harmed. Everyone was here, including Merle and Daryl, immediately removing them as Shane's suspects.

A few of our weapons, the ones that had been hidden away, either in the RV, Shane's duffle bag or my truck under the seat were here.

None of the books in the trailer had been touched, obviously.

Over half of our ammunition, all of our medical supplies, and all of our food was gone.


	8. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead.**

**A/N: Thanks again to all of you for reading! :)**

For a week we tried to hunt and gather food, but it wasn't enough to feed so many people.

"We don't have any other choice except to go to the city and scavenge for supplies." Shane stood in the middle of camp, addressing the group. "The plan is simple; go in, get what we need, and get out. But it'll be dangerous. There could be geeks around every corner." He paused, letting this sink in. "But this is something we have to do. We're out of food. We hardly have any weapons to protect ourselves. This list is stuff that we desperately need." He held up a sheet of paper. "So, who's gonna volunteer?" He looked around expectantly.

I stepped forward without hesitation. "I will."

"No."

"But, Shane..."

"Serena," he interrupted patiently. "We need you to help with gathering and hunting."

I relented and nodded in understanding.

"I'll go," Morales volunteered.

"Me, too," said T-Dog.

"So will I," Glenn said.

I looked at him in horror. "Glenn..."

"It's okay," he assured. "I've done it before. I'll be fine."

"I know," I said quietly. "It's just... be careful." After his last almost-disastrous trip to the city, I was afraid that this time, Glenn wouldn't come back.

He gave me a small smile. "I will."

Among the other volunteers were Jacqui, Andrea, and, to everyone's distress, Merle. Shane declared Glenn the leader and gave him the list, and they began making preparations to leave.

Before they left I approached them to give a few words of advice.

"You know what we need. Stick to what's on the list, nothing more. Nothing that will delay you from getting back before dark." My gaze lingered momentarily on Merle as I said, "Don't do anything stupid or make choices that will endanger any of you." Speaking to all of them again, I said, "You're a team. Work together. And please, be careful."

When it was just Glenn going out on runs for small items, things that wouldn't take long to get, I didn't worry so much. This time, however, with more items needed, and more people going out, I had a bad feeling that I couldn't explain. Like the saying goes, strength in numbers. But more people could draw more walkers.

Merle stepped towards me, breaking me out of my thoughts.

"Keep on eye on my brother while I'm gone," he said. "Nobody else will."

"Don't worry, I will. You can count on me."

"I hope so." He turned to go.

"Watch your back out there," I said before he walked away.

"Always do." He raised a hand in farewell.

"And theirs," I added.

Merle looked back at me with an unreadable expression and got in the vehicle.

I watched them as they drove down the road, praying they would all return unharmed.

Feeling a hand on my shoulder I turned, seeing Dale.

"They'll be back," he said.

I nodded. "I know. I just hope Merle minds his manners."

"You can count on T-Dog to keep an eye on him."

"What's this about Merle and manners?" Shane asked jokingly as he walked over to us. Now serious, he asked me, "Are you ready to go?"

I had let Shane know that I planned to go hunting after the scavenging group left, even though Daryl was already hunting. A little extra food could never hurt.

"As soon as I get my bow, I will be," I responded. "You and Dale will be okay keeping an eye on things?"

"We'll make sure the camp is taken care of."

"Don't worry about anything," Dale added. "You worry too much as it is."

"If I didn't worry about the camp, I wouldn't have anything else to do."

Dale gave me a little smile and a pat on the shoulder before returning to his place on the roof of the RV to keep watch.

Retrieving my bow and arrows, a shoulder bag, a pistol and a knife from my truck, and a bottle of water, I looked over the camp one last time.

Despite so many people, it seemed empty without some of my closest friends.

_Maybe I do worry too much. _

As I passed, I waved to Carl, Sophia, and Morales' kids, who were laughing as they played a game of some sort.

The woods were inviting, and my heart was a little lighter when the trees swallowed me up, trapping me in it's cool, earthy embrace.

* * *

I had bagged ten squirrels when I decided to head back to camp. I would have kept hunting had it not been for the fact that the sky was darkening, the clouds heavy with rain. We couldn't make a fire to cook on in the rain.

A few droplets hit my face, and I quickened my pace. There was a rumble of thunder from the direction of the city, and as I climbed a short hill I got a view of the surrounding hillside, with the city in the distance. I couldn't make out the camp yet, since it was still hidden by the trees, but I could see that the clouds were heavy over Atlanta.

I felt an urgency to get to camp and see if Glenn and the others were back yet.

My measured steps turned to a jog, and I started jumping over protruding roots, stepping around trees, and leaping over stones.

After a few minutes, I paused and listened closely for any leaves crunching underfoot. Hearing nothing, I resumed my pace.

A short while later, I broke through the treeline, breathing heavily.

Carol was folding clothes, just finishing telling Sophia a story, over in the shade.

"Are they back yet?" I asked her when she was done.

She put down the shirt she had just folded and nodded. "They got back an hour ago." She smiled. "They also came back with someone."

My steps faltered. "Who?"

She nodded to where Lori and Carl were sitting next to the fire pit, joyful smiles on their faces, huddled next to a man I didn't recognize. He had dark-brown hair and was unshaven. Lori was gazing at him lovingly.

"Is that..." I began slowly.

"Rick Grimes? Lori's husband and Carl's dad?"

I nodded. "It's really him?"

"Yes," she said. "You should have seen Carl's face."

I smiled, a few tears came into my eyes. "I wish I could have. I'm so happy for them."

"Me, too," she said, a smile on her face as well.

"I should go get these cleaned," I said, remembering the squirrels. "Is Daryl back from hunting yet?"

Carol shook her head. "Not yet."

"Then I should get these taken care of."

I found a bucket and made my way to the quarry.

I wanted to ask someone if the group made it back okay, if everyone was here, but I didn't see anyone else that was there besides Rick Grimes, and he deserved uninterrupted time with his family after being separated from them for so long.

As I rounded the corner I saw a moving truck and a red sports car with the hood up, parked behind the RV. Glenn was sitting on the ground, looking at the car.

I ran up to him and dropped the bucket, bag, and my bow on the ground, and sat down beside him and hugged him tightly.

He jumped, slightly startled.

"Sorry," I apologized, pulling away.

"It's okay." Glenn put an arm around my waist and pulled me next to him.

"I assume that car is yours?" I squeezed his shoulders and pulled back a little.

"It was, before Shane killed it," he said dejectedly. "I liked that car."

"We can get you another one," I said. "So how did it go?"

"You didn't hear?"

"No. Did something happen?"

He hesitated before responding. "There were a few complications."

"Complications?"

Glenn pulled away and turned to face me levelly. "Don't freak out, okay?"

I pursed my lips in trepidation and nodded.

"We were trapped in the department store."

My eyes widened. "Trapped?"

"You promised."

"I'm not freaking out."

"Are you sure about that?" Glenn asked skeptically.

"I'm not freaking out," I repeated in a controlled tone. "I'm just concerned. Is everyone okay?"

He explained everything that had happened calmly.  
How they were trapped, about finding Rick Grimes and helping him out of the tank and into the store. How Merle got into a fight with T-Dog and Morales, trying to take control of the group. Rick handcuffing him to a pipe on the roof. How they covered themselves in walker guts to cover their scent and disguise themselves, so they could get to the moving truck and get everyone out of the store. How T-Dog dropped the key to the handcuffs down a storm drain when he tripped, and had no choice but to leave Merle on the roof.

I listened to him quietly, without interrupting, speaking only when he was done. "I'm glad that you're all safe." I realized I sounded quiet and distant.

"But?" Glenn asked, sensing there was something on my mind.

I knew he may not understand, but I told the him anyway. "But I have to do something about Merle."

"Why? We're better off without him."

I gathered up my things so I could get supper started. "He may have been violent, incapable to get along with, and impossible to be around, but he's still a human being."

"I know," he said, hanging his head in exhaustion.

"When Daryl finds out, he's going to be upset. He'll go to find him. He'll be emotionally unstable, and if he's on his own, he could get himslef killed." I draped my bag over my shoulder. "Before y'all left, Merle told me to keep an eye on Daryl, and I told him I would, so I can't let Daryl go out there and get himself hurt."

Glenn nodded in understanding. "I'll go with you. I can show you where the store is." He stood and brushed off his pants.

"Alright. But not now. It'll be dark soon, and I have to make supper. We'll go tomorrow morning, hopefully Daryl won't be back before then."

"Do you want help cooking?"

"Do you know how to clean a squirrel?"

He shook his head.

"I think I might be able to find something you can help with, but for now, just rest. You deserve it after the day you've had."

I was sitting atop the RV later that night, keeping an eye on camp, chewing on a squirrel leg bone, listening to the rolling thunder of the storm, my shift of night watch nearly over. I had been contemplating going after Merle on my own.

Under the cover of night, I could get into the city, find Merle, and get back out before dawn. It would be easy. But there were a few problems that I could run into if I went through with the plan; 1): It was dangerous to be in the city after dark. Walkers could swarm on you without you knowing if you couldn't see them. 2): If I managed to find Merle, there was a good chance he would be in a very bad mood, and not likely to be happy to see me. So here I sit, wondering how he is out there. If the lock held on the door. If Merle would be delirious from exposure by the time we got him.

If we got him.

I heard everyone discussing the incident this evening. It seems that some of them want to leave Merle where he is and forget about him. But what about Daryl? some had asked. Tell the truth and deal with his temper, if he left, he left.

_And then what? _I wondered. _Forget about him, too? After all he's done here, gathering and hunting, keeping everyone fed?_

I couldn't let that happen. If Shane didn't want anyone going after him, then I would go on my own. However, I may not have to be on my own. Rick Grimes had a sense of morality and seemed to have a sense of guilt about leaving Merle, even though it was no one's fault.

Merle was acting out, so Rick had restrained him so he couldn't hurt anyone else and to give him a while to calm down. Dropping the key was an accident. Leaving Merle on that roof was an unfortunate occurance of unfortunate circumstances. I knew this to be true, but if Daryl comes back in the morning before we get Merle, how do we convince him of this? And Merle will likely hold a grudge. How do we convince him otherwise ans make him see sense?

The sound of someone climbing aboard the Winnebago pulled me from my thoughts. I looked over to see who it was as Shane hauled himself up and walked over to me.

"How's it goin'?"

I shrugged. "It's been quiet. Nothing to report."

"Good," he nodded. "Go get you some rest."

I yawned and rose from the chair and stretched. "Thanks."

Shane sat in the chair and made himself comfortable. "'Night."

"Goodnight," I said back, sliging my rifle across my back. I went over to the ladder, but didn't go down.

"Something wrong?" Shane asked.

"No." I shook my head. "I was just thinking... what are going to do about Merle?"

"There's no immediate plans. We'll figure it out tomorrow."

"Does anyone seem to want to go after him?"

"Besides you? Not really. Why?"

I shifted my weight from my left foot to my right, looking at him unblinkingly. "I was thinking of going after him tomorrow." I silently dared him to tell me no and order me to stay.

He just shrugged. "Whatever you wanna do. Just let us know if you go."

"Alright." I put my foot on the first rung, and swung my leg over to the second rung. Before climbing the rest of the way down, I asked, "Do you want me to finish the rest of tonight's watch? You seem like something's bothering you."

"No, I'm fine," Shane said, motioning for me to go.

"Okay, goodnight."

By the time I lay down to sleep, a light rain had settled over the mountainside.


	9. Chapter 8

**A/N: Thank you LizzieLinn for following, and Nerdy-Tomboy and marinaandthedorks for following/favoriting! :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead, it's plot, or it's characters.**

I woke up while it was still slightly dark. The sky was filled with a pre-dawn light, birds were beginning to sing, and a few squirrels were coming down from their nests high in the trees.

I got some water and sat down with my legs crossed on the hood of my truck, thinking about Merle. When the sun comes up, it's going to get hot, more so around noon. He could get dehydrated.

At that moment I realized what had been bothering me so much about this; I had promised everyone, including the Dixons', that I would keep them safe, and Merle was out there, by himself, handcuffed to a pipe on the roof of a building, in the middle of the city, probably without a weapon to defend himself.

It was a snap decision, made without any thought.

I jumped down, found a pair of socks, my boots, and a jacket, and pulled them on, gathered a pistol, knife, bow and arrows, and one of my swords, and pulled my hair into a ponytail. As I was going to find Shane, I saw Andrea sitting in one of the chairs by the fire pit, reading one of Dale's books.

"Good morning," I greeted.

"Good morning," she returned. When she noticed my weapons, she asked, "Are you going hunting?"

"No, I'm going to get Merle."

Andrea gaped at me and dropped her book. "What? Why?"

"I made a promise I would keep everyone safe."

"We're safer without him!"

"I know that." I sat down beside her. "But he's alive. I can't just let him stay up there, dying of thirst and starvation."

"Look, I see where you're coming from, but you can't just go out there on your own."

"I'll be fine."

She sighed. "You really want to go out there?"

I nodded. "I have to."

"At least wait until everyone gets up and we can find some people to go with you."

"And chance Daryl getting back before I do and throwing a fit? Don't think so. The sooner I leave, the better."

"You know Shane won't be too happy about you going without telling him?"

"Shane isn't in charge of me. And besides, I told him last night, and he didn't seem to care."

Andrea picked up her book from the ground and marked her page with a scrap of paper. "What if you don't come back? What about the kids? They look up to you. What about all of us? You're a friend to pretty much everyone here."

I pursed my lips. "I know about all of that. But I have to try."

"He wouldn't do the same for you," she said matter of factly. "He would leave you for dead."

"I'm not doing this on the off chance that he might do the same for me. I'm doing this to keep my promise, and more importantly, to try to save that idiot's life." I softened my tone, pleading. "Please, just tell me the name of the store, and I can go get him."

Andrea sighed exasperatedly, but told me the name of the store and where it was located.

I smiled. "Thanks, I know exactly where that's at."

Frowning worriedly, she said, "You're a good friend, and I know we can always count on you. You're like a second sister to me and Amy. So be careful, okay?"

I nodded. "Don't worry, I will. I'll be back before dark."

Shane was just getting down from the RV, clearly just woken up, when I went to get into my truck.

"You're going?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," I said, gripping the door handle.

He nodded. "Be careful, and watch yourself. Keep your eyes and ears open."

"I will."

Shane waved and watched as I drove down the road.

I went as far as the entrance to the city. I had spotted a light blue SUV half in a ditch, but otherwise in good condition, and decided to take it instead of my truck, in case there were other people still in the city that would try to steal it.

After checking the vehicle and making sure it had enough fuel, I backed it out of the ditch and continued on my way.

Outside the store that Merle was supposed to be on, I got out of the car and unsheathed a katana, unnerved by the heavy silence.

The front glass doors were smashed, and showed clear signs of a small hoarde of walkers having been in the store at one time. I hoped they weren't still here. I stepped carefully around the bits of glass, cringing when I accidentally stepped on a piece, making a loud crack.

I was startled not surprised to see a walker, just outside the door the the stairwell.

As it turned to growl at me, I stabbed it through the head with my sword, holding onto it tightly as I pulled the sword free from it's rotting skull and laying it down on the floor quietly, looking around for more of the undead.

Seeing none, I swiped the blade across the walker's clothes to clean off most of the gore and cracked the door open and peeked around. As far as I could see, there were no walkers on the stairs, and I didn't hear any stumbling around above me, so I tiptoed up as quickly as I could.

The door that T-Dog had said he had closed and held shut with chains and a padlock was still closed, the lock firmly in place.

I tugged on the chains, gritting my teeth as they rattled against the metal door. I studied the lock to see if I could pick it, but I didn't have anything I could use to pick it with, and it would likely be a waste of time to go back downstairs, where I could easily be seen through the broken glass doors, and try to find a hair pin, paper clip or something.

I silently chastised myself for not bringing bolt cutters.

I decided I would make sure Merle was still here before venturing downstairs to find something to open the door with.

I pushed the door open as far as the chains would allow and looked out onto the roof.

"Merle?" I called softly. "Merle, are you there?"

No answer.

"Merle?" I said again, louder this time, but there was still no response. I pushed the door as hard as I could, and looked all across the roof, as far as I could see.

I saw Dale's lost toolbox, knocked over, tools scattered. A slight distance from there, I saw what must have been the pipe Rick had cuffed Merle to. I didn't see Merle.

"Merle!" I called as loud as I dared. If he had escaped the cuffs somehow, but was still on the roof, he should be able to hear me, right?

My eyes fell on something that sparkled in the sunlight, dangling from the pipe. I looked closer, and my stomach dropped.

It was a set of handcuffs. The part that I could see that was hanging had something dark on the botttom of it that wasn't reflecting the sun. I had a feeling, a bad one, that it was blood, because near that was what looked to be a hand.

My stomach dropping even further, I closed my eyes tightly and backed against the wall, away from the door, feeling sick.

I had failed him. I had broken my promise.

What will Daryl's reaction be when he finds out his brother had been ripped apart by walkers, with nothing left of him but a hand?

_Wait a minute._

I opened my eyes and stepped away from the wall. He couldn't have been ripped apart by walkers, because the chains still held, and no matter how hard they pushed on the door, they wouldn't have been able to open it far enough for one of them to squeeze through if they were all shoving against one another.

So what happened?

I looked out through the door again. There was Merle's hand, the handcuffs, the toolbox, the scattered tools...

That was it. He must have used something to get to a hacksaw from the toolbox and used it to cut off his hand to escape. But why cut off his hand? Why not cut the cuffs in half?

The hacksaws must have been dull, and Merle must have been desperate. And what made him so desperate to cut off his own hand to escape those cuffs?

Walkers, obviously.

After he cut off his hand, he must have used something to keep from bleeding to death. Maybe he used his shirt to bind it, or his belt as a tourniquet, or both.

_But if there were walkers, where did he escape to?_

There was a building beside this one. Could he have gotten onto the roof of that one somehow and left through that one?

I hurried down the steps and out of the store and pushed through the doors of the next one over. There was a walker wandering aimlessly among the shelves near the back of the store, but she, it, hadn't spotted me, so I crept away to find the stairwell.

I stepped around a tall display stand advertising a one week only sale on designer shoes, and found that a walker blocked my path. I tried to back away without it hearing me and turning around, but my elbow hit one of the shoes on the display, knocking it to the floor with a thump.

The walker turned and growled at me, reaching. I stabbed it, but I missed it's head by several inches.

It grabbed my shoulders, trying to pull me towards it. I stumbled backwards and fell over, struggling to keep the walker's snapping jaws away from my face. I shoved it off of me and backed away from it, trying to decide how to get my sword back from under it's armpit.

A hammer caught my eye. I grabbed it from the shelf, dodged around the walker, and plunged the sharp end of the tool into it's skull. It didn't die, just fell to the floor, so I hit it a few more times until it stopped moving. I pulled my sword out of it's chest and continues on my way to find the stairs.

Twice more I encountered a walker, but I made sure to stay back far enough that I could kill it without missing it's head.

On the roof I saw a sturdy piece of lumber spanning the length of the gap between this store and the other, along with drops of blood here and there, making a trail that led back the way I had come.

My heart thumping in anticipation, a bubble of renewed hope rising in my chest, I followed the trail into the depths of the store, around a corner and through a doorway, where I found a couple of dead walkers.

Beyond there, I went through another doorway, the unmistakable stench of burned flesh assualting my nostrils.

I found a gas stove, the gas turned on, and an iron with bits of burned flesh and some dried blood on it. I saw a window with the glass busted out.

Looking out, I realized he must have broken the window and went out into the street to escape the city.

I leaned against the window frame, thinking of what to do next.

If he was no longer in the building, then there was no telling where he was now, assuming he hadn't been so weak from blood loss that he passed out and/or was caught by walkers.

I was startled by the sudden sound of loud bangs going on within the store.

My heart hammering against my ribs I left as fast as I could, making as little noise as possible.

Walkers I wanted to avoid, but I could handle them if necessary. If they were people looking for supplies, I didn't want to alert them to my presence, more so than I did the walkers. I would like to help them, but they could be dangerous, and since I was on my own I didn't want to be caught by dangerous strangers.

I ran out of the store and hurried to where I had left the car, sidestepping several walker's outstretched arms.

I jumped into the SUV and turned the key in the ignition.

It didn't start.

I tried a second time, and a third.

"Come on!" I muttered. "Start!"

With walkers starting to surround me, I held my breath and turned the key again.

It started.

I sighed in relief and sped away from the department store, running over a few walkers in the process.

I found my truck where I had left it hidden in the woods by the road. I debated going to one of the smaller towns, several miles in the opposite direction, and see if I could get anything useful from one of the stores.

Extra food, medical supplies. It would be risky, but I would chance it. Maybe it would be worth it.

I looked to the display on my radio and checked the time.

Eleven thirty-two. I bit my lip, considering.

_No, _I decided. We had _some_ food, we needed medical supplies. But I could come back out. I promised I would be back before dark, and if I went on a run now, there was a chance I wouldn't be.

_I've broken enough promises for one day._

I pulled onto the dirt road, back in the direction of camp.

When I arrived, Amy, Andrea, Lori, Carl and Shane gathered, watching me expectantly.

"You didn't find him?" Amy asked, but seemed a little relieved when she saw Merle wasn't with me. I didn't blame her, because he was always making rude comments to Andrea, but I still found it irritating that they put so little value on Merle's life.

"He wasn't there," I responded, removing most of my weapons, putting them back in the floor of my truck. I kept my sword at my side for now.

"He wasn't there?" Lori asked.

"The lock T-Dog put on the door was still there, so I couldn't get on the roof, but from what I could see, he was gone." I looked meaningfully at Lori, flicking my eyes at Carl.

Getting the message, she put her hands on his shoulders and suggested calmly, "Why don't you and Amy go play a game?" To Amy, "Can you take him?"

Amy nodded and held her hand out to Carl, who took it, letting her lead him away.

When they were out of earshot, Shane asked, "What did you find?"

By this time Dale had come over to hear the news.

"Well, Dale's toolbox, knocked over and scattered, for starters." I looked at him apologetically. "I couldn't get them back."

Dale nodded, as though he had been expecting to hear that he wouldn't get his tools back, and motioned for me to go on.

"I called for Merle, but I never got an answer. Rick's handcuffs were still there." I paused a moment. "And so was Merle's hand."

Dale's, Lori's and Andrea's eyes widened, and Lori put a hand over her mouth. Shane crossed his arms and looked to the ground a moment. When he looked back up, I saw his reaction was not out of worry or grief for Merle, but of disgust at what I had found.

"His hand?" Dale asked.

I nodded. "Since the door was still intact, and there were no other signs of a struggle, I came to the conclusion that Merle must have cut off his hand to escape the cuffs with the hacksaw from your tool box."

"Why his hand? Why not cut the cuffs?" Shane questioned.

"Exactly what I wondered. It would take someone awfully desperate to do something like that, wouldn't it?"

They nodded in agreement.

I wet my lips. "I figured there must have been walkers at the door, he got the hacksaw, it was too dull to cut the cuffs, out of desperation he cut off his hand. I found a blood trail that I followed for a while. I found a gas stove, turned on, an iron with burned skin and dried blood on it, and a window with the glass busted out. What kind of conclusion would you say this story has?"

"He cauterized the stump and got out," Shane said without hesitation.

I nodded. "That's what I think."

"Is he on his way back here?" Lori asked.

"If he is, he's not gonna be very happy," Dale said.

Lori put her hands on her hips. "That's if he didn't lose so much blood that he passed out."

"We might as well assume he's dead then," Shane put in.

I looked at Shane irritably. "I'm not giving up on him. He'll either come back to camp, or he'll hide somewhere. Whatever the case, we'll find him."

"You mean you and Daryl'll find him," Shane disagreed. "I don't know if you've noticed, but nobody else cares about him."

Lori glared and said sharply, "Shane, that's a horrible thing to say!"

Shane stepped back and held his arms out and looked at her in a way as though saying, _So, what?_ "The Dixons' have done nothing but cause problems for us since the beginning! We're better off without them!"

"They may not be the best of people to be around, but they're not entirely worthless," Andrea said defensively. "Just because they wouldn't do the same for us, we should still try to help, because it's the right thing to do."

I gave her a grateful smile, and she nodded in response, a look in her eyes that said that was all she had to say in the matter. I nodded back in understanding.

"How do we help him if he isn't here?"

I stepped toward Shane, keeping my calm. "The trail went cold. I can't do anything about that. Since I no longer have a way to track him, and he's Daryl's brother, I'm going to ask Daryl what he wants to do. If he wants to look for him, then I'll help find him. That's the only choice there is."

"You'll have to wait until they get back if you want to talk to Daryl." With that, Shane walked away.

"Daryl left? With a group?" I asked Lori.

She nodded. "Rick, Glenn, T-Dog, and Daryl went to get Merle and the bag of guns Rick dropped yesterday. They left about an hour or so ago."

I wondered if maybe the noises I had heard in the store were them, and regretted being so hasty in my retreat. Oh, well. Nothing I could do about that now.

"Just ignore Shane," Lori added.

"What's up with his attitude?" I asked.

"I don't know," she answered, biting her lip, not looking me in the eye.

"So how did Daryl take the news?" I asked, changing the subject, noticing her discomfort. Maybe she and Shane had had an argument or something, but I wouldn't worry about it, since if that were the case, it was none of my business.

"Not good," Andrea answered. "When he found out, he looked like he was ready to kill someone."

"I figured that. Did anyone get hurt?"

She shook her head.

"Did Daryl get anything from his hunt?"

"He got a deer, but a walker was eating it when he found it."

"It was over there," Lori added, and pointed over to where Jim had tin cans hanging on a string. "Just around the trees."

"Was it just one walker?" I asked, alarmed.

"Fortunately."

"Did anyone scout the woods, to make sure it was just the one?"

She nodded. "They didn't see any."

"It still ain't good that there was one up here. More could show up."

"We're keeping a closer eye out," Dale said.

"How long ago was the last patrol in the woods?"

"When we saw the walker."

"I'll go out and look around for a bit," I volunteered. "Should I hunt while I'm out?"

"Me and Amy were just about to go fishing when we heard you pulling up," Andrea informed me. "We'll see how much we can get. If it isn't enough to feed everyone, you can if you still want to."

"Okay."

There weren't any signs of walkers in the woods, and Andrea and Amy managed to get enough fish to feed everyone in camp.

Rick, Glenn, Daryl, and T-Dog weren't back yet, nor had Merle showed up.

They still weren't back when the sun set and everyone sat down to eat.

We all knew they must have just ran into a slight problem (we didn't want to think about what kind), and that they would all be back eventually. As for Merle, I assumed he must have holed up somewhere and resolved to go looking again tomorrow.

I sat on top of the RV watching the road, listening to our surroundings, waiting for them them to come back.

Carl had asked me to come sit by the fire and eat with them, but I was still too wound up from hearing about the walker so close to everyone to relax. I was too alert to have fun.

I popped the last of my piece of fish into my mouth, stretching my legs out. I picked up my water bottle and took a sip.

I heard a crackling of leaves from behind me, in the woods, so I grabbed up my rifle and looked, but I didn't see anything.

"Are we seriously out of toilet paper?" Amy said from below me as she stepped out of the RV.

Since I was focused on where I had heard leaves crackling in the woods, I never saw the walker that came around the side of the Winnebago and bit Amy on the arm until I heard her piercing scream.


End file.
